Shape Of You
by Spectering
Summary: Repost College AU When Donna and Harvey meet, it's all fire and passion and maybe falling in love a little too fast. She's trying to be level-headed about this, but he's just so darn cute.
1. when the violence causes silence

_This is absolutely a repost. I decided to repost chapter 1 and continue this story. The reason that I am reposting it is simply because the idea for the story was more au than pre-series. Anyway, I would love to hear your thoughts and also, please don't hate me!_

* * *

She's 19 and that's about all there is to it.

New York City is bigger than Cortland and plays a totally different game at an entirely different speed. It knocked her off her footing at first, the population going from the thousands to the millions, but she's beginning to adjust. She has a semester of NYU behind her, a roommate who practically ignores her existence, and a job that she's settled in at a bar near campus. She makes good tips and the customers are usually regulars, plus her boss let's her read at the bar when afternoons are slow.

NYC is a big city with big dreams and she certainly isn't the only dreamer. She's surprised that she ever got her parents to agree that she could move to the city to go to college. After years of trying to get her parents to agree (and her mother effectively saying no), they finally agreed that she could go to NYU but if there was one problem that she was moving back home. With those stipulations, like she'd ever tell them if something happens.

Working in a bar, however, puts her directly in the crosshairs for harassment, but she's been able to fend for herself for years. Yeah, like she tells her parents everything, very funny, and if they knew they would probably chew her ass out for a few hours or maybe even feel like a drive to the city is permitted; she got into her fair share of trouble in Cortland, just no one ever knew she was the brains behind it. She's that good.

She smiles and flirts and shows a little bit of cleavage to get a boosted tip, ignores the leering, pretends like she doesn't feel the brushes on her hips or the near (yet missed) ass grabs. She's best damn drama student Cortland has ever seen and she's only playing a role. The guy who sits in the corner booth with a book every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday certainly isn't playing a role and she wouldn't be Donna Paulsen if she didn't notice. His jaw clenches tight and this little vein beside his left eye pulsates buy he never says anything, just squeezes the leaf of his book so tightly that he nearly rips it out.

He's never said anything to her though. She's beginning to wonder if he even has a voice. Or balls. Maybe it's wit he's lacking, or maybe he just doesn't want to deal with the bullshit society has to offer him.

She's glad it's Tuesday. They are generally slower than the weekend and not nearly as busy as Thursday nights since that's usually ladies night. The only time that Tuesdays are busy is if there's a game on, and tonight is only moderately busy since it's the first Yankees game of the season. That's the first time she sees the guy in the corner puy his book down and since Chelsea called in sick, she's got a heavier load than normal.

"You want another?" She asks him.

He shakes his head and motions his gratitude, eyes flitting quietly from the television to her and back. Maybe she should try again on commercial since he doesn't seem to be receiving her well. She wonders if he's always this friendly or if she's just the lucky one he's being an asshole to today.

"Today must be my lucky day," she mutters as she turns on her heel. Her fingers stay tightly wrapped around the too of the booth as her steps lead her body. She guesses the bar is filled with dicks, why would Casanova be any different?

He sighs audibly, "It isn't you. I just found out I didn't get the internship I wanted for the summer. It went to some know-it-all with connections."

That's the closest thing to an apology she's going to get out of him, "Want a beer? On the house?"

"I don't need your charity," he counters, lips fusing together.

"Look," she starts, a little sharper than she intends, "It's just a beer. Take it or leave it."

"You never say anything," he muses aloud.

Her eyebrows furrow in response, "What?"

"When they touch you. You just smile and walk away. Does it even bother you?"

She tucks a loose strand of red hair behind her ear, hand proceeding to her hip as she leans her elbow against the booth, "A woman's sexuality isn't a weakness. It's a strength."

He chuckles, fingers beginning to tap against his glass, "Are you some kind of feminist?"

"The nineties are all about female empowerment, don't you know? Besides, I don't think it's anything for you to worry about."

"Oh," he retorts with a grin, "I'm not worried. I'm just a concerned citizen who wants to know when to bring their video camera in the event that you rip their arm off and beat them with the bloody stump."

She laughs, the rumble in her shoulders, "I don't think I can give you fair warning. I'm more of a spur of the moment kind of girl."

"You're hardly a girl," he observes, "Although, you could probably use some work in the lady department."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" She presses, narrowing her gaze on him.

He shrugs half-heartedly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pushes his cold fries around his abandoned plate, "I'm just saying: female? Yes. Woman? Definitely. Lady? You could probably inherit a few manners."

She glares and quickly pinches the sensitive skin of his arm, "You really are just an asshole."

"Hey," he counters, "You started it, and that hurts. Where's your manager? I want to file a report."

"Shut up," she says through a laugh, "Let me get you a beer."

"Fine, you talked me into it," he feigns a sigh.

"Like I really had to talk you into it," she comments. She shifts her gaze towards the bar, catching eyes with Micah behind the counter, and he gives her a smirk as he wipes out a glass so it doesn't leave water spots. Micah, tall and skinny with dirty blonde hair, is easy going and has a smile that spells trouble but he's loyal and nice - probably the best boss she'll ever have. She motions for another beer, brown bottle with a red label, and Micah nods his acknowledgement. "I'll be back with your complimentary beer."

"Good," he bites with a teasing grin, "The Yankees are back. Don't break my concentration."

"Boys," she mutters with a free of charge roll of her eyes. She turns on her heel and heads back to the bar, pausing at a table full of a few guys to see if they need any refills. She pretends not to notice the way they are halfway to drunk and becoming less restrained every time she walks by. Her nails are a little longer than normal, she can cut one of them if she has to. "Did you guys need anything? Another round perhaps?"

"You're really pretty," the one to her left says.

She paints a smile on, her voice dropping halfway to sultry without promise to commit, "I know."

"I'm sure you get told that a lot," he adds.

"People typically love me because I'm producing their alcohol," she replies with a slight shrug, "Keep 'em comin'?"

The guy's hand touches her thigh and she knows what's coming next; "I'll keep you-"

Mister Grabby Hands is cut off with a fist flying into his face, his body follows the weight of the impact and he falls off of his barstool. The nameless guy from the corner is seething, no longer paying attention to his beloved Yankees as he stands three feet behind her with a clinched fist. Her eyes narrow at him warningly as the bar goes quiet, Micah standing at attention the moment the rest of the guys at the table make a move for the guy who clearly came in looking for a fight.

Simon, her best friend from Cortland who moved to the city with her, her future roommate as soon as she can live off of campus, stands from the end of the bar, and Donna quickly lifts a hand to cut him off from proceeding. Simon purses his lips and slowly concedes, lowering back to his seat even though a punch goes flying through the air at her left. The guy with no name, the one who is bitter because he didn't get the internship he wanted, stumbles backwards and she can't tell if it's because he has an iron jaw or if it's because mister grabby hands' friend just can't pack a punch.

The guy from the corner booth shifts his jaw on his hinges, "Keep your hands to yourself."

"Listen, buddy-"

"I need you guys to leave," Micah interjects. He stands between the three on one group and motions them to the door. He glances at Donna. "You take him to the back and get him some ice."

She bites back a sigh as she grabs him by the hand and leads him to the back, all the while glaring at the group of guys over Micah's shoulder, "Come on, we'll get you all cleaned up."

"I'm fine," he insists; his feet follow behind her anyway, "I mean it, I'm fine. I've been clocked once or twice before."

"Okay, Tough Guy, I get your point," she replies sharply. She tugs him in front of her, pushing him through the loose on its hinges door and letting it swing closed behind her. The back room is fairly small, but big enough to do what it needs to, and there's an empty seat that she promptly pushes him into. "But Micah's not a very pushy guy, doesn't ask for much, but when he says to do something then you do it."

"You seem to like this Micah guy," he acknowledges.

She tosses him a glare as she pulls a clean washcloth from the shelf and wraps some ice up with it, "He's my boss. I don't sleep with my boss."

"I didn't say anything about sleeping with him," he retorts.

She huffs, "For someone who just got punched in the jaw you sure are talking a lot."

"That guy punches like a girl," he says with a smirk, "I bet you can hit harder than that guy."

"Would you like to find out?" She challenges as she presses the ice to the knuckles of his right hand. The smirk on his mouth only widens and she feels a slight tug at the corners of her own mouth. He only half-heartedly shrugs and she takes it lightly, turning to get some more ice for his jaw even though he clearly doesn't seem to need it. "You came in here looking for a fight tonight."

"Maybe," he admits, "But the guy deserved it."

"Maybe," she echoes in agreement, "But it isn't the first time it's ever happened. I think we both know that."

"Maybe I was looking for a fight but if it's any consolation, I feel better now," he says as she presses another handful of ice wrapped in a washcloth to the red mark on his jaw, "Come on, Fire, lighten up. Don't be mad at me for thinking that you deserve a little more respect than that."

"You don't even know my name."

"I would like to know your name," he replies.

Her eyebrows furrow as she connects gazes with him, "That's a hell of a lot of trouble to go through just to find out my name."

"Yeah, well," he shrugs her comment off and smirks, "especially during a Yankees game."

She doesn't say anything, just holds the ice to his face until her fingers are frozen as he keeps the other handful of ice pressed to his hand. She has to admit, the last guy who fought for her honor only did it because he wanted something out of her. She's intrigued by his intentions, doesn't believe he could do it _just because_.

She sighs, "Donna. My name's Donna."

"It's funny because I already knew that," he says with a grin.

She smacks him in his shoulder without thinking about it. "How did you know that?"

"I'm observant," he answers with a shrug, "I'm in here three days a week and, trust me, it isn't because you guys serve the best burgers on the street. I listen, even when you think I'm not, I still hear you."

"The quiet guy in the corner booth is a creeper," she mutters teasingly.

He lightly shakes his head, "Harvey is fine."

"He has a name," she says aloud, "I have to admit, I wasn't even sure you could speak."

"I have a habit of saying too much. I'm not a huge fan of sugar-coating or people, really," he says. She watches him with a quirked eyebrow, something in him seemingly changing, like there's more to him that he'll never tell. She immediately takes this as a challenge she will succeed. "You can stop babying me now. I'm fine."

"Harvey," she says, feels him jerk as his name leaves her mouth and she wonders what that means, "You're going to have a nasty bruise if you don't quit. Not to mention, I'd be surprised if you didn't break your hand."

"I'd be more concerned about the other guy if I were you," he counters.

"Eh," she starts with a shrug, "He deserved it."

Harvey grins and it makes Donna's fingertips tingle.

"Donna!" Simon's voice cuts through whatever tension has settled between her and Harvey, and it makes her stand at attention. Her body is stiff and her fingertips become loose around the ice until it slips out of the opening in the corners of the washcloth and falls to the floor. Her eyes briefly clothes and she turns slightly to glance at Simon in the opening in the door. "Micah needs some help out here."

"Coming!" She shouts back. The door swings shut again and she catches Harvey's gaze, the smirk on his mouth making one appear on her own face. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and lightly shakes her head. "You need more ice before I go?"

"I told you to stop babying me," he reminds her.

"Fine," she says, "Fuck you too then."

He laughs and it touches her ears like maybe she was never supposed to hear it, "Don't do that thing where your feelings get hurt just because I'm an adult."

"Your ego cushioned the blow, I get it," she counters.

"Still get that complimentary beer?" He presses.

She narrows her gaze at him, "Now you owe me one for causing a scene."

"Anybody ever tell you that you're a tease?" He sets the washcloth on the counter and pushes himself to his feet, her fingers trailing over his jaw.

She smirks and turns on her heel, his footsteps close behind her, "All the time."

"That's fine, I'll pay," he replies decidedly.

"No you won't," Micah interjects, "If you hadn't hit the guy then I would have. Because you don't work here the bar doesn't get fined."

"Well, let's be honest, it wouldn't have been a fair fight if we would have had to step in," Simon adds.

Harvey gives a head nod but Donna isn't amused, "You men are pigs. I could have handled myself."

"Right," Simon says through a laugh, "Honey, you cause more fights than you know."

Donna sees Harvey's eyebrows furrow at Simon's use of the term of endearment, something she no longer pays attention to after years of him calling her that. She rolls her eyes, something that makes Harvey feign a laugh (she knows he wants to ask questions, but he won't). He takes the beer that Micah sets on the bar in front of him and heads back to his booth.

"Do you think he's a loner?" Micah says quietly to her.

She shrugs a tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "Nah, I think he just doesn't like dealing with people's shit. Leave the guy alone."

"He's still watching you," Simon points out.

Donna laughs, "And you think he's the first guy to watch me? Please, don't be so naive."

Simon mock laughs, "We're in the big city now. There are all kinds of people here."

"Get off it," Donna warns.

She leans against the counter as Micah fills the tray with bottles of beer. Simon just shrugs and chugs the rest of his beer. His fingers touch her elbow as he leans in and presses his lips to her cheek, "Call me if you need anything."

"Stop babying me," she mutters to him; her gaze immediately shifts to Harvey as the words leave her mouth.


	2. beneath the milky twilight

_This is so lame...anyway, please let me know your comments and concerns and suggestions and everything else._

* * *

"You can go home," Micah tells her with an appreciative smile.

She's in the middle of wiping down tables but he's used to her idiosyncrasies by now, knows that they are probably far beyond clean at this point and she needs to be told to leave for her to ever leave. She sighs as she stands upright, feeling every minute of work in her lower back as she throws the wet washcloth at the bar manager. He catches it, a nightly routine that is carefree and meaningless that always makes her feel so off kilter when Tom, the other bar manager, is there instead of Micah.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, you have that class at eleven," he tells her with a shrug, "I don't want you to be too tired to make an appearance."

"Should I be concerned that you know my class schedule?" She asks with a quirked brow.

She steps up to the bar and leans heavily against the counter, nearly in her flirtatious stance that she typically only finds use of when trying to get more tips. She doesn't know what she's doing, not really, she's just had a really long day and there's been a whirlwind of things and people that she doesn't know how to process. She doesn't mean anything by it, how could she when Micah is her boss and she's only 19, but maybe she's still just too young to watch herself.

"It's my job to know these things," Micah replies, tapping his temple for effect.

She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, "Most bosses don't care."

"I'm not like other bosses," Micah grins, "I'm a cool boss."

She laughs. She says, "It's only two-thirty. I can stay later."

"No, seriously," he insists, "Go home, get a good night of rest. Be ready to pass that test."

"Now I really feel like you're stalking me," she says, teasing.

Micah shrugs and says, "Simon was talking about it."

"Of course he was," Donna mutters to herself. She lifts her gaze to Micah, a blush touching her cheeks because she didn't want him to hear her but she knows she'd spoken too loud. He offers her a small smile in return, rounding the bar to come to her side. She's taken off guard by him approaching her, not quite sure how to respond to the sudden closeness. She's losing her voice now, but manages a small, "What are you doing?"

"That guy today," Micah starts, "He really did me a favor jumping in and hitting that guy."

"He did?" She says, voice shaky.

"Yeah," he breathes. He steps too close to her. She recoils on instinct, but he is faster than her. He is gentle yet forceful. She should tell him no but she can't find her voice. "I care about you, Donna."

"Micah," she utters. His hands settle on her hips and she tries to wiggle away. She can't move. He has her trapped between his body, two bar stools, and the bar counter. She wants out. She shakes her head.

"I do so," he replies, "I've wanted you for a long time."

"No," she says loudly.

Just then, there's a firm knock on the front door. Micah outwardly groans and steps back. He puts space between them and she sighs in relief. She watches as he peels the door open and Harvey pokes his door in.

"Donna," he says, a reassuring smile crossing his mouth, "I'm here to walk you home like you asked, two forty-five sharp."

"Right," she says loudly. She hears the gratuity in her voice, the relief that her unnecessary hero from earlier has made another appearance. She should be concerned that this man was waiting outside for her, but for some reason she trusts him. "Just let me get my purse."

She rushes to the back to grab her purse and returns quickly. Harvey leans patiently against the doorframe. He looks cute in a black jacket and a pair of khaki pants. She hadn't noticed earlier how cute he is. Except for that developing bruise on his jaw.

"Ready?" He asks. She nods firmly, pulling her purse across her body. He smiles again as she approaches. He's making her feel safe. "Don't you have a jacket?"

"I forgot it," she admits.

"Well, can't have you freezing," he replies.

He takes his jacket off and drapes it over her shoulders. His jacket swallows her. She quickly nods at Micah and steps outside, the wind immediately whipping her face. She hears the door shut behind her and glances at Harvey to her left. He has his hands buried in his pockets.

She doesn't know what to think or how to feel. She's suspicious that he showed up in that moment when her boss was cornering her, but she's more relieved to be out of that uncomfortable situation. She doesn't know that she can really question him on his timing.

"Are you okay?" He says suddenly. She looks at him sharply. They're on the street corner now, just a block away from the bar, and he's shuffling his feet. He must be nervous.

She nods slowly. She swallows and hugs his coat to her chest. The walk signal lights up and in unison they both step onto the crosswalk. She says, "Why did you come back?"

"I was feeling generous," he replies. She can see him half-heartedly shrug out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't believe him, making it out like he's doing her some kind of favor.

"You're lying," she accuses.

"Who knows what that guy would have done if I hadn't shown up," he says bluntly.

"You aren't doing me any favors, Harvey," she snaps.

She only hugs his jacket tighter as she picks up her pace towards her dorm room. She can hear him sigh, his annoyance currently resembling his annoyance of earlier...before he punched that guy coming on to her. He keeps showing up today when men are being sleezeballs.

"Donna, wait," he says. She feels him saddle up in the space beside her, catching up to her with his long legs and without much effort. She feels his fingertips on the sleeve of his jacket, the pads of his fingers brushing over the back of her hand. Her hand instantly tingles where he touched her. She can't help herself when she slows to a stop to look at him. "Let me buy you something to eat. To repay you for the beers."

"You don't have to," she replies. She watches his face fall at her declaration. She kind of can't believe him right now. "I mean, I can't. I have a test tomorrow."

"Right," he says, as though he knew that. She wants to apologize to him but she doesn't. She doesn't really owe him anything. But she can't help feeling like she does. "At least let me walk you home."

"I don't-"

"Come on," he cuts her off before she can really protest, "Give a guy a break. I just want to make sure you get home safe."

"Well," she hesitates. She isn't entirely opposed to the idea; she's just weary after having a day full of men trying to force themselves on her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, noting that his hands haven't left his pockets once. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"I'll be on my best behavior, promise," he insists.

She nods in agreement and starts heading towards her dorm. He's a few steps behind her, the sound of his shoes echoing every time the soles hit the concrete. Something starts eating away at her and she stops again. He runs into her, his hands finally leaving his pockets to steady her. His palms lightly touch her sides, keeping her upright.

His eyebrows are furrowed when she looks at him, confusion apparent by his expression. His lips are fused tightly together. Her gaze lingers on them for a bit too long as she imagines what they might feel like against hers.

"Why'd you hit that guy today anyway?" Her eyes quickly flit to the blemish on his jaw like maybe her gaze will really punctuate the meaning.

"Because," he mutters. His tone seems to deepen, like he's extremely dissatisfied in having to explain himself. She doesn't care. She arches an eyebrow, pushing herself up on her toes to make her challenging gaze more difficult to ignore. He huffs, shoulder slumping ever so slightly. Only then does she realize that his fingers are still lightly pressed against her sides just above her hips. "Last time he did something like that to you, I told him it would be the last time he gets away with it."

"What?" She blurts, completely taken aback by his confession.

"I've been watching you take that shit from him for weeks. When he grabbed you on Friday, I told him to keep his hands to himself or he'd regret it," he explains further. She bites at the inside of her cheek, staring at him long and hard. She begins to step forward but he stops her by stepping in front of her. "You deserve to be treated with respect."

She turns her gaze away from him, stepping around him then with magnificent warmth growing in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she's going to throw up. He follows behind her again, the next block or two being taken in silence. Maybe he really is a gentleman.

She can see her dorm finally. They stop at another crosswalk, his elbow brushing against hers. She turns her top half towards him and takes a look at him. She seems to catch his eye because he shifts his head towards and pops his eyebrow up on his forehead.

"How far away do you live?" She asks.

"Long Island," he says with a shrug, "Staying with a buddy tonight though."

"It's three in the morning," she replies, incredulously, "That's ridiculous. Don't wake your friend up."

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" He replies with a laugh.

"Don't be dense," she says flatly. She sighs, chastising herself for even trusting him so freely. Her mother would kill her for entertaining this thought, but here she is, inviting a stranger to sleep in her bed at 3 in the morning. "You came to my defense, it's the least I can do."

"Donna," he says, waywardness about his voice. He lightly shakes his head. Her mother would surely hope he would decline her offer and go home. All of the way to Long Island. "You don't owe me anything. I'll walk you to your door. Don't feel obligated to invite me in."

"I'm an adult, Harvey," she retorts with a chortle, "Plus, it will really piss my roommate off."

He laughs there, like he's amused by her enthusiasm. He nods slowly in agreement. He presses a hand to the small of her back in an attempt to usher her along, and she doesn't know if he's eager or freezing. When she starts moving, he quickly removes his hand and hugs himself, which immediately answers her question.

She leads him straight to her building, motioning him upstairs with her when she senses his hesitation. She tosses a glance behind her as they climb the steps to her building just to be sure he's following. He takes two steps at a time to be ahead of her, opening the door for her to enter first.

She grabs his cold hand as she passes him, dragging him into the building with her. His fingers twitch in her hand, his hand loose in hers. She guides him to the elevator, releasing her hold on his hand when they come to a stop. She nearly jumps when a few seconds later she feels his hand bump against hers, his fingers sliding between hers.

She imagines herself looking at him, gauging him and his intentions, but she's afraid to. She can't find it in herself to protest. She doesn't want to, and that both scares her and thrills her at the same time. She squeezes his hand as the elevator pops open. She steps forward and pulls him in behind her.

Once they are in the elevator and she's hit the button for her floor, she turns to fully look at him. The forming bruise is extremely clear in the bright, pointed light of the elevator. She sucks in a deep breath at the sight of him. She immediately drops his hand and lifts her fingertips to his face. He hisses when her hand touches his face.

"Harvey," she murmurs, "This looks like it hurts. Let me stop at the kitchen to get some ice for it."

"Donna," he says with a sigh, "It's fine. I'm fine."

She feels his cold fingertips circle her wrist, gently prying her hand away from his face. She can feel the warmth of him despite his freezing hands, and his face is so close to her that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Luckily, the elevator doors ding and slide open on her floor. She tears away from him, putting space between them.

"This way," she says, stepping out of the elevator and beckoning him with a finger. She hears him step off of the elevator and shuffle down the hallway behind her towards her dorm room. She fishes her keys out of her purse and stops at her door. She looks behind her to be sure that he's still there. "This is it."

"Donna," he says again, "You really don't have to have me in."

"I want to," she insists.

She shoves the key into the keyhole and turns it, immediately pushing the door open with minimal effort. The lights are off so she uses the light from the hallway to find the switch for her desk lamp. Her roommate grumbles as she does every night when Donna gets home from work, not that she would know anything about work since she doesn't have to have a job.

"Nice," he comments, gaze honing in on her poster of Michael J. Fox, "This must be your side of the room."

"Yep," she replies with a smirk. She discards her purse on the desk and kicks off her shoes. She moves towards her clothing to get something to change into. She says, "Have a seat. I'll be right back."

She disappears down the hallway to the bathroom and quickly changes into a pair of shorts and a tank top. When she returns to her room, he's still sitting on the corner of her bed with his shoes on and his jacket in his hands. He looks like he's ready to leave.

"Come on," she says, closing the door and locking it.

She turns off the light perched atop her desk. She places a hand on his shoulder and crawls over him to the side of the bed closest to the wall. Her fingertips slide down his arm until they find his hand. She pulls him up towards the pillow, relieved when she hears his shoes drop to the floor. The bed shifts under the weight of him.

* * *

She wakes up before her alarm, a heavy weight across her middle. She peels her eyes open but is met with a white painted wall. There's something heavy behind her, pressed against her, keeping her so warm that she's nearly sweating. She finally realizes that his arm is thrown across her, hand tucked under her side, and the weight behind her is actually the entire length of his body. Like he's keeping her safe.

She doesn't want to disturb him even though she's pretty sure he said he has an 8am class. She doesn't even know what time it is. She moves slightly beneath him, her shoulder pressing more fully against his chest, and his tight grip on her loosens.

"Do you need to get up?" He says into her ear.

"No," she says all to quickly. She realizes then that she doesn't want him to move, that she feels warm and safe. She's mad at herself. She doesn't even know this guy, but he's really been nothing other than a gentleman. She swallows and says, "Don't move, okay?"

She feels his knee slide between her knees, the knob of his joint sliding further up between her thighs. His chin touches her shoulder blade, his lips extremely close to the exposed skin of her shoulder. He's made no effort to kiss her, and she doesn't even know how she feels about that.

"What time is it?" She asks.

She feels him shift behind her, his breath lingering against her shoulder with the movement. She takes the opportunity to shift more onto her back. When he rests his head on the pillow beside hers, she can feel his chin against her clavicle, his breath trailing to her neck. His fingers return to her stomach, his nails absently scraping against the exposed skin between the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her shirt. She shivers in response.

"A little after nine," he says, squeezing her tighter. She realizes that he must think she's cold, that he's just trying to keep her warm. She hadn't thought he was the cuddling type, but she supposes that this twin size bed doesn't give him much of an option. "What time is your test?"

"At eleven," she says. She lifts herself up from the bed and tries to glance around him across the room, but he has too much weight on her with too broad of shoulders. She sighs and looks at him, slightly apologetic. "Is she here?"

She watches him as he turns his body more so he could take a look. His grip on her loosens, the weight momentarily lifted from her torso, and she takes the opportunity to move a little more. He looks back at her, immediately shaking his head. She offers him a small smile, peering down the length of the bed and realizing that he didn't even get under the blanket.

He looks adorable in the thin sunlight coming in through the window. His usually perfect hair flattened against the side of his head. His sweater stretched across his chest, sticking to his stomach. His black socks the perfect color scheme against his khaki pants. Part of her wants him very badly.

She gives in to that part of her aching, fingertips arching as they slide over his side when she fully angles her body towards him. His hand slides down her back, coming to a stop just above her tailbone. She releases a breath, leaning forward and capturing his unsuspecting lips with her own. His mouth is slightly parted, tongue immediately sweeping over her bottom lip. She says to herself that she shouldn't do this, that her mother taught her better than to invite strange men into her bed.

His hands press hard against her back, pulling her closer into him. Her fingers dig into his back muscle and he hisses in her mouth. She can feel that he has an erection growing against her thigh and it causes her to grin against his mouth. Her fingers trail further down his body and slip beneath his shirt. He pulls back then, putting some space between them.

"Donna," he says softly, "I need to go."

"What?" She immediately says, her eyes narrowing in his direction, "You can stay."

He peels his hands from her skin. Her skin burns where he had been touching her. She shakes her head in response, not really sure why he's leaving. He disentangles himself from her and turns away from her. He sits on the side of the bed and puts his shoes on, standing up quickly. He turns to face her, and she's already sitting upright. His fingers touch her forehead and she feels his fingertips slide across her skin.

"Thank you for the warm bed," he says.

"Would have been warmer if you'd gotten under the blanket," she muses.

"True," he agrees. He leans down while hooking a finger beneath her chin and capturing her lips with his own. His lips are soft and warm, like milk and honey. She doesn't have it in her to ask if she'll see him again. The kiss ends all too quickly. He says, "Goodbye, Donna."

"Goodbye, Harvey," she replies with a small nod. He's gone very quickly. She wonders if she's supposed to act like he's a stranger when she sees him in the bar.

* * *

She sees him the moment she steps foot into the bar. It's 3:30 in the afternoon and she's done with her classes for the day, but she hadn't expected to see him today. He usually doesn't make appearances at the bar on Wednesday.

He doesn't notice her. He's had a change of clothes and he's wearing a tie, tight around his neck. She bows her head and rushes to the back to ditch her jacket and her purse. She sees Micah out of the corner of her eye, cowers beneath his burning gaze. The day is filled with too many potential awkward moments.

She braces herself for facing her boss who is potentially stalking her, and the guy who was just too much of a gentleman towards her. Just as she releases a shaky breath, the doors swing open. In slow motion, her heartbeat speeds up in preparation to come face to face with Micah, but thankfully the person who pushes through is Chelsea.

"Oh thank god," she mutters so quietly that Chelsea doesn't even hear her.

"That handsome guy in the booth that's in here all of the time was asking for you," Chelsea says, "He's been here for the last half hour refusing to order anything."

"Really?" She says, voice catching in her throat. She runs her fingers through her hair, hoping that she doesn't look a total mess. She clears her throat. "Do I look okay?"

"Uh," Chelsea hesitates, obviously thrown off by the question; she knows she's acting weird. Chelsea gives her a once over. The older girl says, "Yeah, you look great, Donna."

She throws her shoulders back and strides out of the back into the bar area. She ignores Micah's steely gaze and marches right on over to Harvey. He looks up at her shadow being cast over him and, when he seems to register whom it is, a grin spreads across his mouth.

"Hello, Harvey," she greets, a smug look tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Good afternoon, Donna," he volleys.

"You look sharp," she says.

"Had an interview," he explains, looking down at his tie and absently running his down the material. He's nervous, by the looks of it. She nods slowly, slow enough that he knows she isn't necessarily happy with him. His behavior earlier had distracted her from her test. "Can you sit?"

She hesitates there, her fingertips bracing her against the table like she's losing her balance. She glances at Micah and Chelsea over her shoulder. They are staring, watching this unfold. She would guess that Micah told her about yesterday, probably with disdain.

"I shouldn't," she says, disappointment present.

"What if I order something? Can you sit then?" He asks.

She laughs softly. She says, "You're incredulous."

"That's what they tell me," he replies with a smirk. He scoots to the edge of the booth and stands then. He seems to tower over her, which is a rare occurrence for her with her long legs, and she feels so small but so safe. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" She blurts. She mentally chastises herself, annoyed at the way that she just can't seem to be on her toes around him. She hasn't felt this way since she had her first real crush in the 8th grade. He made a fool of her and she vowed to never let that happen again.

"Because," he says, his mouth taking an odd shape somewhere between a grin and confusion, "I think you're great and I wanted you to know that."

"You don't even know me," she replies, a scoff falling from between her lips.

"Okay," he hums, "We should rectify that then. When are you available?"

"I'm off at eight," she murmurs.

He nods slowly, reaching into the booth for his suit jacket. He pulls it on over his shoulders and offers her a massive grin. He says, "I'll see you at eight."

She watches as he saunters passed her, ignoring anyone else who tries to make eye contact with him. He makes his way straight for the door, only tossing a small glance in her direction that could easily be missed. In fact, she thinks she possibly imagined it. She doesn't bother looking away until the door has completely closed behind him. She turns her attention back to her audience and offers them both a shrug.


	3. now that your rose is in bloom

_I feel like they're the kind of people who would be all in all passion from the very beginning. Keep in mind this is based off of the idea that Harvey didn't even really find out his mom still cheating on his dad until he was in law school and this takes place before that. I think that would have made Harvey a bit softer to letting love in._

* * *

She waits around after her shift for 15 minutes before giving up. He said he would be there at 8 and she had been silly for expecting him to be there at that time, given the way that he'd left as soon as he could. Maybe he just wasn't attracted to her and that was the reason he had to go. If she knows anything about men though, and she suspects she knows enough, then that certainly couldn't be the case...considering.

She sighs and gives up waiting, getting up from her seat at a bar stool and heading into the back for her things. She had spent her entire 4 hours at work being hopeful that she would see him again. Given his constant appearance in the bar, she hadn't imagined that he would stand her up.

She exits the backroom, giving Chelsea a tight smile and a small wave. The slightly older woman matches her wave and Donna silently wishes her good luck. She heads to the front door. Pushing the door open, she slings her purse over her shoulder as she steps outside. It's much warmer than last night, the hints of spring beginning to peek into the month of March.

She lifts her gaze from her purse task and stops in her tracks at the sight before her. He looks extremely casual standing there in a pair of blue jeans and a white button up shirt. His hair is perfectly coiffed and he looks fresh. Her gaze trails over him from head to toe and he pushes off of the newspaper container he's leaning against. He has one singular flower between his fingers. He offers her a shy smile when he extends the orange flower.

"I picked it from my mother's garden," he admits.

The tense anger in her shoulders quickly flows out of her, her annoyance at his inability to manage time an immediate afterthought. She can't help the smile that takes over her mouth. She lifts a hand to take the flower from him.

"You're late," she replies.

Instinctively, she lifts the flower to her nose and takes a big whiff of it. Did he really carry this flower all of the way from Long Island? He lightly shakes his head there, like he's politely telling her that she's wrong.

"I've been out here waiting for you," he says. She furrows her eyebrows in response, that idea almost ludicrous. She wants to tell him that he could have come in. "I didn't want to make things anymore awkward for you with that guy in there."

It's like he can read her mind. She shrinks a little in her spot on the sidewalk. She feels a blush creep up her neck and she isn't happy about it. She hugs the flower closer to her almost like she's trying to keep her embarrassment hidden. It's dark outside and she's worrying about the shade of her skin.

"He's my boss," she reminds him.

He nods his acknowledgement, digging his hands into his pockets. He turns slightly, his shoulder extremely close to hers. She can feel the warmth of him radiating on her skin. She shivers at that.

"I know," he finally says, his meandering pace picking up beside her as she moves forward, "I know you don't think of him like that, but guys in this city can be...well, assholes."

"Are you an asshole, Harvey?" She baits. He shrugs there. She knows his type. Of course he can be an asshole, but he's respectful and has a heart of gold. No man would turn down a girl if he weren't a decent human being. "I guess I'll find out."

"Maybe," he says, walking beside her. His shoulder absently hits hers. She looks over at him. "I know of this great diner. You interested?"

"I could eat," she murmurs.

He nods and begins walking a slight bit faster, only a half step in front of her. She follows but keeps with his pace, like a string connects them. She wonders if he thinks of this like a date or if he only just wants to get to know her. He let her kiss him, but she wonders if he will kiss her.

In just a few short minutes, he mutters a 'this way' and opens the door to a little diner near the corner of the street. She steps in before him, the place is packed and she is a little unsure how they can get to know each other around this many people. It's so loud in here, but when he steps in behind her and offers her a smile, she immediately feels comfortable.

A woman approaches them, maybe in her late 30s, and reaches for some menus. The woman says, "You brought someone this time."

"Be nice, Norma," he warns the older woman.

She almost smiles but instead turns on her heel, motioning for them to follow. She leads them to a booth where she places the menus on opposite sides before walking away without another word. He looks at her expectantly so she takes a seat on the side that faces the door. He immediately sits across from her.

He says, "That woman is a battle ax but she'll really pull through when you're in a bind."

There has to be more to this. He seems to be a regular at all of the places he visits - the bar, this diner. She thinks he has a lot more going on than he lets on.

"She let you sleep in her bed, too?" She teases, but there's some interest in her question. He laughs gently, lightly shaking his head in response. She says, "I was worried you were two-timing her."

"About this morning," he says, immediately delving into it, "I didn't want you to think I was only being nice to you because that's what I wanted from you."

"I didn't picture you as a cuddler," she replies.

"I'm not," he replies. He doesn't sound defensive or even argumentative. In fact, he sounds quite smug. His admission almost makes a little warm fire pit light in her stomach. "You just looked so peaceful and I...I wanted to be part of that."

"I didn't think that's what you wanted from me," she starts; she finds her fingers tapping away on the table top like she can't control her nerves. Maybe she can't. "It was just the moment."

She watches his face fall there, like he was hopeful but now he isn't. She wonders if he thinks he always has to be a gentleman. She wonders if she takes him home and tries to fuck him right now if he would just do the right thing. She doesn't even know him. She shouldn't be thinking like that.

Just as he opens his mouth the reply, a waitress interrupts him. She gives them her spiel before asking what they want to drink. They both order coffees and waters. By the time the waitress leaves them be, he looks like he's figured out what he wants to say.

He says, "You didn't have to let me stay the night with you, you know? I can always find a couch to crash on."

"Why do you crash on people's couches, Harvey?" She inquires with great interest. Why does he commute from Long Island regularly? Why doesn't he have a place to live? Not that the city is a particularly cheap place to live. She's been working since November so she can save for a place to move to in May as soon as she can move out of the dorms.

"I'm going to move here," he counters, "If I get that job I interviewed for today, I mean."

"Where was your interview?"

"Gordon, Schmidt, Van Dyke," he says, "I was trying to get a summer internship there but I wasn't picked. Went to some hoity-toity know it all from the Upper East Side. Figured I would try for a non-legal position there as a suggestion from one of their lawyers."

"Don't you hate commuting?" She asks. She hasn't even looked at her menu yet.

"I can't afford not to," he admits. She feels bad for letting him buy her meal now. He smiles quickly, reassuring her once again. "Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of money saved from my summer job, and I still help my dad on weekends. But I just haven't been able to find work this semester."

"My parents think I work at the library," she counters with a slight grin, "Don't tell them you met me in a bar."

"Meeting your parents already?" He teases.

She laughs it off. He may be cute, but after nearly two years of living in the city she knows she can't judge a book by their cover. She can read people much better now. She thinks he's definitely the type you bring home to meet mom and dad.

"I'm not sure you're the kind of guy you take home to meet the parents," she baits.

"I totally am," he counters, "You'll see."

"Will I?" She volleys.

"Like you have any room to talk, Donna," he says her name in such a sexy manner that she feels weak at the knees. Thankfully she's already sitting down. She crosses her legs, one knee over the other, a heat creeping across her cheeks. "You wanted me."

"You wanted me," she accuses.

"Maybe," he says, "But you had a test. I didn't want you to be late."

Laughter peels out of her there. Like he would have been able to last two hours and make her late for her test. There's no doubt he is a vital man as he just oozes with confidence, this nude attractiveness that she feels in her joints, but to have the stamina of cheetah is highly unlikely.

She shakes her head slowly, mouth still curved upward in her lingering amusement. She likes the way his mouth takes shape when he's grinning. It looks genuine. Like he's sincere in everything he does or says.

"You had to go home," she says, "For the suit."

"It was at my friend's," he admits, "Had to go back home for a change of clothes. Dad wanted to know what my big hurry to get back to the city was."

"What'd you tell him?" She asks.

"I gave them Chuck's phone number on my application," he tells her, "I think Dad's going to come to the city next week to help me look for an apartment."

"Somewhere close to campus?" She asks.

"Maybe Harlem," he says, "Brooklyn if I have to."

"Simon and I have been looking at these two bedrooms in Bay Ridge," she replies, "They're nice but expensive."

"New York City is expensive," he says with an agreeing nod. She feels his foot touch hers and she gives him a look. He doesn't retract his foot so she considers for a moment that maybe it was intentional. "But I don't think commuting is much cheaper either."

"I could never commute from Cortland," she says.

"Is that where you're from?"

"It's complicated," she admits. He nods slowly, sitting upright. She can tell he's listening, that he genuinely wants to hear it. She sighs then. "I grew up there, then we moved to Connecticut and moved back my senior year."

"Is that where your parents live?" He tries again.

"My mom does," she answers, "My dad still lives in Connecticut, Greenwich, actually. They've been separated for three years but I don't think they're ever really going to go through with the divorce. I think my mom's just waiting for my dad to retire and move back to Cortland."

"I get it," he says. He doesn't elaborate on anything, and before he has a chance to the waitress walks up to take their order.

* * *

There's a firm knock on her door that breaks her attention from her textbook. Her time is thin, especially staying out the night before until close to midnight talking to Harvey at that diner. He'd walked her home but opted not to come up. She knew it was for the best.

She glances at her clock and sees that it's still the afternoon, still early enough that she has no idea who it could possibly be. She snaps her textbook shut and leaves it on the bed. She gets up and goes to the door. If it's one of her roommate's friends she's going to snap.

She pulls the door open and is surprised to see Harvey at her dorm so soon. He has a full-fledged grin like he's the happiest guy in the world. He'd usually be at the bar around this time, studying. He has his bag over his shoulder.

"I got the job," he says.

"That's great," she says, matching his enthusiasm.

"It's just low-level, in the mail room," he says, "But I start on Monday."

"Congratulations," she says.

Something inside of her makes her reach up and grasp his shirt in her hands to tug him towards her. He steps towards her and she pushes herself up onto her toes, her lips landing on his. He immediately responds, his tongue sweeping over her bottom lip before he quickly pulls away from her.

"Oh shit," he mutters, "I'm so sorry."

"Harvey," she says bluntly, "I kissed you."

"Well," he murmurs; he pushes his hand beneath the strap of his bag and fiddles with it. He looks anxious, and cute. He says, "Celebrate with me."

"I have so much to do," she utters apologetically. She examines him then, his demeanor extremely comforting. She almost believes that he would be happy doing anything with her. "You can come in though."

"Yeah," he says, barely audible, "Okay."

* * *

She feels his eyes on her and it's distracting her so much that she's lost her place in her textbook. She's most of the way through her reading, but he's been staring at her for the last half hour and she can't concentrate anymore. She pushes her fingers against the spine of her book and looks over at him, her shoulder pressing more fully against his.

"What?" She mumbles.

"Nothing," he says all too quickly. She doesn't believe him. He laughs gently at himself. He says, "You're just really..."

He trails off there like he's leaving her to fill in the blank. She sighs and completely shuts her book. She takes a look at the book in his hand, noting that it's something regarding ethics. She wants to laugh at this realization.

"Really what?"

"Beautiful," he finishes. She feels a warmth creep up her neck, the embarrassment touching her lightly . She's shy and giddy and she hates that he makes her this way. He smirks at her practically melting in front of him. "What?"

She shakes her head and says, "Nothing."

"Hmm," he hums, "Okay."

"What are you reading?" She asks him.

"Biology ethics," he says, "It's really boring."

"Take a break," she instructs. She reaches over and peels the book from his hands. She slips a random piece of paper between the pages and closes it.

"Hey," he mumbles in a slight whine, reaching for the book.

She shakes her head. His fingers settle on her wrist and slowly digs into her skin. His fingers fully wrap around her skin and she feels her breath catch in her throat. This is the first time he's really made contact on his own volition.

"I'm hungry," she counters with a grin, "Let's get some food."

She watches his face contort and stretch like he's thinking, and he's thinking hard. He seems to relent, his hand sliding down to hers. He slips his fingers between hers and offers her a smile. He turns his head to face her, resting his chin on his muscular upper arm. She wants to touch that arm, feel his defined muscles, but she keeps her hands to herself instead. He lifts his other hand and reaches across his body. He hooks his index finger beneath her chin and lightly guides her towards him.

She follows his suggestion, leaning into him. He closes the space between them, his lips descending upon hers so easily that she thinks he's been thinking about this the last few hours he's been sitting beside her on her bed. His mouth is warm and smooth. She takes a moment longer to savor it than she has the last two times she has kissed him.

She doesn't keep track of the time but when he pulls back, he's still smiling. He says, "What are you craving?"

She's still reeling from his kiss when he says this. She wants to reply with, you, but instead she feels her response catch in her throat. She's seen this man so many times and she's never even considered he could be like this. Her mother always warned her not to judge a book by its cover.

"A milkshake," she finally says. She pushes herself off of the wall and scoots to the edge of the bed. His fingers tighten around hers as he presses her hand into the mattress.

"A milkshake," he repeats, following her movement to crawl off of the bed, "That doesn't have any substance."

"Indulge yourself a little," she suggests. She feels his hand release hers and he bends over to pick up his shoes. He pulls them on with a grin before reaching for his jacket. It reminds her to grab hers from her desk chair. "Let's go to that burger place on the corner."

"Sounds good," he agrees.

She slips her shoes on and opens her door. He's two steps behind her, politely encouraging her to walk ahead of him. She likes that he's so nice and polite and to know that the chivalry isn't dead, but she knows there has to be something about him that is less than perfect. As they make their way down the hallway, she spots a familiar face and knows there just isn't any way around this potentially awkward encounter.

"Donna," her friend says, "I was just coming to see you."

"Simon," she says softly, "We were just on our way to grab a bite to eat."

"The guy from the bar," Simon says like he suddenly recognizes Harvey.

"Harvey," he corrects, stepping a bit around her and extending a hand. He offers Simon a charming smile as he retracts his hand back to his torso. "Want to join us? She's craving a milkshake."

"Oh," Simon says with a smirk, "Sounds delicious."

* * *

She sits on the outside of the booth, munching from the basket of the fries in the center of the table. She looks to her left to see Harvey is smiling and nodding along to Simon's story from when they met senior year. She really thinks the story is uneventful and not really worth telling at all, but Simon likes it. Harvey seems to like it will enough, or he's really good at faking it.

She takes a long sip from her milkshake as she pulls her attention away from Harvey, who has said very little, and looks back at Simon across the table from her. Simon is undoubtedly more embarrassing than her mother is, telling this guy she barely knows almost every stupid thing she's ever done. But Harvey seems to be more amused than anything else, so at least there's that.

She leans back against the seat and glances over at Harvey, noting that he's fidgeting with his hands under the table. She drops her own hands to her lap, judging the distance between them. There is at least 3 inches between them and she feels extremely cold without his body heat.

"Excuse me," Simon says, "I have to use the little boys' room."

She nods in acknowledgement and her friend gets up to go use the restroom. Once he's out of visual range, she turns her attention back to Harvey. She smiles apologetically.

She says, "I'm really sorry. I hope he hasn't said too much."

"What?" Harvey says with a laugh, "No! Not at all. Why are you so worried?"

"Because," she says, trailing off. She doesn't have a legitimate reason to be worried. For the most part, she knows of Harvey as being a bit of loner. She assumes he doesn't like a bunch of small talk and chatter. "I just don't want him to over share."

"He hasn't. He couldn't," Harvey replies. She doesn't find him to be all too convincing at the moment. She sighs heavily. She feels his fingers slip between her palms and pull her hand into her lap. He engulfs her hand in his own, holding it close to his diaphragm. "Listen, I have to go shopping for a new suit on Saturday. You should come with me."

"Okay," she says softly.

* * *

Waking up with him in her bed is not something she is particularly used to, but she certainly isn't complaining about it. With the tail ends of winter, she is waking up in a near sweat with his body heat warming her so much, but she thinks it's better than waking up freezing. Granted, this is only the second time he's slept in her bed and this time not entirely on purpose.

He'd actually fallen asleep before her, in the corner of her bed against the wall. He'd had his sweater on and an undershirt, not to mention his pants. When she woke him up at just after midnight, she told him to do whatever he needed to do to sleep comfortably. Her roommate still wasn't there so she didn't care about appropriateness.

He'd opted to strip his sweater off, but nothing else. She slipped under his arm and rested her cheek against his shoulder. She pulled the blanket up to his chest. His breaths were so light for a few minutes as his brain clicked and he pushed his hand down to the small of her back. She toyed with the hem of his t-shirt for this time, her nails skimming over his exposed skin, and only stopped when his breathing evened out and he'd fallen back to sleep.

It had been months since she'd slept beside a guy so intimately. After she had broken up with Stephen just before finals a few semesters ago, she really just bothered with guys once or twice. None of them had been particularly nice and none of them had been as attractive. Hell, even Stephen hadn't been half as attractive as Harvey. Or, perhaps, she just wasn't half as attracted to her ex-boyfriend as she is to Harvey.

Waking up and seeing this man sprawled out partially beneath her just does things to her. She sighs while doing a tiny little stretch, trying not to disturb him too much, and spreads her fingers out against his stomach. His shirt has ridden up his torso, exposing more of his skin and letting her feel his nearly there toned abs. She pushes her fingertips around to his side and tucks them under him, her thumb sweeping across his rib cage.

She slides her foot up his leg, her toe getting caught just beneath the hem of his pant leg and pulling it up. Her thigh wraps around his, and she sucks in a deep breath. His scent overtakes her senses, the mixture of his aftershave and his soap colliding with her brain waves.

The movements must disturb him because his hand presses harder against her back. She turns her face upward to look at his face, and when he peers at her it takes her by surprise for some reason. The way he leans in slightly aggressive takes her off guard, his dry lips assaulting her unsuspecting ones. It takes the briefest moment for her to register what's happening and she begins kissing him back. Her fingertips dig into the muscles at his back as she uses all of her strength to pull him near.

His lips press hard against hers, instantly parting beneath hers. Their tongues meet in tandem, the space between their parted mouths offering little resistance to the cause. He's being much more aggressive than he's been before, polite but aggressive. She likes it so much that she feels the muscles in her thighs tighten.

She pulls her hand back towards herself, fingers toying with his waistline as they travel towards the button in his jeans. His hand catches hers before she can reach her destination, and lightly shakes his head while still continuing to kiss her. She huffs absently against his mouth, teeth nipping at his lips in response. He growls deep into the back of his throat, and it takes everything inside of her not to squeal beneath him.

He quickly tugs her hand back to his side, releasing his hold on her. She feels his thumb press into her hipbone, one of his other fingers finding the skin between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her shorts. She pushes her hand against his chest, suddenly too overwhelmed to breathe or think. She brings her left hand to his right cheek, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone, and she pulls back to swallow and sigh and catch her breath as she pants. She hears his breathing completely mimic hers, his fingers retracting from her skin.

She wordlessly protests the removal of his hand, her right hand finding the wrist of his left hand and pushing his hand back against her torso. She slides his fingers over her skin, everything inside of her aching when he settles more on top of her and pins her against the mattress with his hip. She still has a leg hooked around his, her calf pressing against his. The bed creaks beneath their combined, centralized weight.

"Wait," he whispers.

"What?" She replies.

"Wait," he repeats again. He releases an elongated breath. His long fingers brush over her torso, causing the hair on her arms to stand up. "We shouldn't."

"I want to," she says.

"I know, me too," he mutters with a firm nod; she can feel his thick bulge pressed hard against her.

Her fingers press into the muscles of his back, slipping low enough to feel his jeans slipping from his hips. She groans, annoyed that he's once again doing the right thing. His eyebrows furrow there. She nearly bursts out laughing.

"I'm pathetic," she says, lightly shaking her head.

"What?" He says, lips pursing together as he shakes his head, "No."

She knows that he is attracted to her. She knows that he initiated this. She knows that he must feel something for her. She looks at him pointedly. She says, "What's the problem?"

"I have somewhere to be," he admits.

She feels his breath trail to her lips, his increasing annoyance becoming very obvious now. He pushes off of her, sitting upright and leaning back against the wall. His hand finds her thigh and runs over her skin to her knee. She rests fully against the pillow, her hair splayed across it beneath her head. His touch makes her shiver again.

She ventures into that extremely clingy territory when she mutters, "Where?"

"I have a class that I T.A.," he says slowly, "I missed it on Wednesday and my professor wasn't happy with me."

"You're a teaching assistant?" She asks.

"Yeah, it was an opportunity that I couldn't miss," he says, "Doesn't pay anything. The guy really likes me though."

"Which class?"

"Philosophy of Law," he replies, "I'm majoring in Philosophy and minoring in Law and Society."

"Oh," she says. He smiles apologetically, like he has something to be sorry for. He doesn't - except for the way his hand keeps trailing over her thigh in such a teasing manner. "What time?"

She watches as he glances over at the clock. He laughs quietly and shakes his head. He looks back at her. He says, "In about twenty minutes."

"So you need to go," she replies.

He nods his head slowly in response.


	4. more than a little crazy

Simon is staring at her cheekily when she walks into the bar, like he has about a million questions. With the lack of phone in her dorm they can no longer just chat about boys and gossip about other people in their friend circle. And she knows she's going to get about a million questions about Harvey that she isn't fully prepared to answer. For once, she is silently praying for a busy night so she can avoid being interrogated.

She isn't going to be so lucky, she knows, when Simon pushes the door open and enters. He's smirking like he knows something. He doesn't. He barely even knows Harvey. He barely even let him speak.

"No," she says immediately, "No."

"No what? You don't even know what I was going to say," Simon replies.

"Yes, I do," she insists, "And the answer is no...But not for lack of trying."

"You turned him down?" Simons says accusingly.

"Not exactly," she mutters, a little grumpy about it. She sighs and finally turns to face her friend. She says, "It's complicated."

Simon looks at her pointedly, telling her to dish. She could tell him everything including how embarrassing he was at dinner, but she doesn't have the time. She really has to get to work.

"He has a lot going on," she replies, like she's making excuses for reasons why he won't sleep with her.

"Sure he does," Simon replies in a sing song, "I have a date tonight but dish tomorrow over lunch?"

"Actually," she says slowly, "I can't."

* * *

She feels his hand press against the center of her back as they approach the entrance to the subway. He's just a half step behind her as they descend the stairs, his body just to her left. She grasps the handrail like she's terrified she'll lose her balance. When they reach the bottom of the concrete stairs, she looks over at him. He must feel her eyes on him because he looks at her and offers her a smile.

He pulls his metro card out of his pocket and swipes it, pressing his fingers against her back in a presumed attempt to usher her ahead. She steps through the spinner and waits for him on the other side. She feels him slide up behind her, his shoulder lightly tapping against hers as his hand returns to her back. As they approach the train tracks, she feels his arm more fully press against her shoulder blades. They come to a stop near a column where their train will come to a halt.

"Thanks for coming with me," he says quietly, barely audible as a small crowd begins to form near them. She turns her body to face him then, her hands finding his hips as she steps more closely to him. "Dad gave me his credit card and told me to pick out something nice. I don't think he trusts my judgment though."

"That's why I'm here," she replies, "I have excellent taste."

"Obviously," he jests with a grin.

She lightly shakes her head, her hands slipping beneath his jacket seeking his warmth on her arms. She feels herself smiling at his charm, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her closer to his chest. She'd guess they look like two people who are very comfortable with each other. No one would ever know they really only met 5 days ago. She's such a fool.

They wait another 5 minutes like that for the train to arrive. When it does, it's practically empty, so they take a seat close to the door. She feels his knees press against hers, his thigh flush against hers, and she looks at him to see him smirking. She settles her arms on her legs, her fingertips tapping against his thigh near his knee.

The train ride isn't too long, only two stops before they get off. They exit the subway onto the street and she's particularly cold now. It isn't winter weather, but the warmth he'd been offering her on the train is certainly missed. She feels his hand absently brush against hers as they turn onto Broadway.

They find Bloomingdales and go inside, heading directly for the men's department. She can tell by his hesitation that he's probably never done this before, probably not without his father or mother present to tell him everything that he needs to know. They work in somewhat of a silence, spreading apart to look for something for him to wear.

He finds a black suit. She finds a gray and a blue and also a pinstripe one. She sends him to the dressing room where a woman immediately takes to helping him to a stall. She follows and waits outside of the dressing room for him to come out.

He first comes out wearing the black suit. Black suits are always a good idea because they can fit multiple occasions. He does already have a black suit though, she knows because she saw him wearing it a few days ago. Next he tries on the blue suit. She likes it on him. It looks shiny. It works with his stubble on his face and the slight messiness of his hair. He tries on the pinstripe one after. She doesn't like it as much. It makes him look like a pimp. Lastly, he tries on the gray suit. She thinks it would look perfect with a solid colored tie.

* * *

She should be studying, learning lines for her audition. She should be doing anything but what she's actually doing. She's flirting, hardcore, with a boy in her bed who looks like he could destroy her. He smiles easily and when he touches her she feels electricity. And, honestly, there really isn't any reason he shouldn't be having sex with her.

When she looks at him, she sees that mischievous glint in his eye. He's cute, knows what he wants, and he gets it if he goes after it. She knows he has to want her or he wouldn't be putting forth so much effort to see her.

The entire day has been wasted on nothing. After picking out his suits (they chose the gray and the blue), they went to a little Thai place for a bite to eat. The food was shitty and he said as much, but he ate it anyway.

They left the Thai place and went back to her dorm. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, and she doesn't have to work. Even though he had mentioned going home to Long Island for some family dinner tomorrow, he's in her dorm for the long haul. She's been pressing her side against his with enthusiasm in an attempt to distract him from nothing in particular. She knows it's been working because he hasn't flipped the page in nearly half an hour.

She can feel the tips of her fingers rattling with desire every time he looks at her. She's on edge around him. She feels like it's now or never, like the moment he gets his own place he won't have any use for her anymore, and she'd really like to say she at least got more than a few meals from him out of the ordeal. At least, maybe, if she could give him some coercion to keep coming around.

And he's kissed her a few times today since they've been back in the dorm, the chain locked, the building practically abandoned for the weekend. They both have more important things they should be doing other than distracting one another from those important things, but she just wants to feel his arms wrapped around her again. She's completely pathetic.

"You're going to miss your train," she says, a slight sing-song voice slipping out.

"I know," he replies teasingly, "I don't want to leave just yet."

"You don't have to," she says, "You can stay."

"I like hanging out with you," he says.

She feels shy suddenly, dropping her gaze to her lap and focusing her eyes there. She feels his hand lightly touch her knee and trickle up her thigh, the hair standing up on her crossed legs at his touch. She feels his other hand sweep her hair away from her face, fingertips brushing over her neck. She feels a warm gush of wind against her neck before she feels his lips press against her skin.

She shivers and tilts her head, pressing her skin more into his lips. The moisture gathers against her skin beneath his lips and her hand comes up to his cheek. Her fingers press against his stubble as she sucks in a deep breath, and she feels the air leaving her body. His tongue quickly sweeps over her skin and his lips immediately evade the crevice of her neck.

She releases a breath deep from her chest but his mouth finds hers before she can even properly breathe again. His tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, her mouth parting beneath his and giving him access. They kiss for a few minutes before she realizes that she can't breathe, and she presses her hand against his shoulder. Panting, she wraps her hand around his wrist like she needs his support.

"Hey," he says softly, "Are you okay?"

She nods and twists her fingers into his shirt. She pushes herself from her sitting position and straddles his lap. She lowers herself down onto his thighs while circling his cheeks with her palms, and she kisses him. His hands immediately circle her waist, fingers pressing hard into her hipbones.

She feels his hands slip beneath the hem of her shirt, his soft fingertips lightly scratching against her skin. She sighs against his mouth as his nails dig into the small of her back. She arches her stomach into his, hands sliding to his shoulders. She feels his palms press against her back and he rolls her onto her back.

He presses himself between her parted legs, his pelvis digging into hers. She moans softly, her thighs tightening against his hips, and she bets she sounds ridiculous right now. He pulls back slightly with a smirk, a stupidly adorable smirk, and she can feel a warmth in her stomach at his expression.

Her hands grasp at his black t-shirt, pushing it up his back. She feels him shiver, his weight pressing hard against her as he juts himself forward. She tugs on his shirt, surprised when he actually helps her take his shirt off. She drops it on the floor.

She moves her foot up to the back of his knee, and her hands smooth over his exposed chest. She takes him in, her eyes trailing down his torso, her hands quickly following the trail of ger eyes. His stomach muscles flex beneath her fingertips. She lets her hand slip a little further down, easily finding the button in his jeans and popping them open.

"Wait," he mutters suddenly, and she audibly groans this time. His eyebrows quickly furrow in response like he's annoyed at the fact she's frustrated they're in this position again. He shakes his head then, his fingers etching a pattern against her arm. "I don't have a...you know. Do you?"

"No," she admits with a sigh. Of course he would be responsible enough to think of that before it got too far. Of course he would prove himself to be so wonderful once again.

"Okay," he says with the release of an exaggerated breath and a nod, "It's okay. You wait here. I'll be right back."

"Yeah," she says with a nod. She relents then and sighs. He sits up while buttoning his jeans back, her movement quickly following his. "Hurry back though."

He nods with a smirk. She's taken a little off guard when he leans over to kiss her again before he even puts on his shirt. Her hands press against his chest, feeling the warmth of him. The kiss is fleeting, but reassuring. She watches him silently as he picks his shirt up off of the floor and pulls it on over his head. He seems reluctant as he puts on his shoes and grabs his jacket as he leaves.

She takes a moment to gather herself, at least knowing that he'll be back because he's left his bag and his suits are still hanging up in her closet. She decides to do a little cleaning up around the room, primarily putting all of his books together and placing them on the desk next to hers. She shimmies out of her jeans, tossing them into her pile of dirty clothes. She throws her top into the dirty pile and gets under the sheets. She waits there for a few minutes when he comes back in, quickly locking the door and chain behind him. She thinks he might be out of breath.

"Took you long enough," she says with a grin.

"You wouldn't believe the line at the convenience store," he replies. He shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over the back of her desk chair. He kicks off his shoes and pulls his shirt off, dropping it to the floor again. "Where were we?"

She peels the blanket back a bit, giving him a look at her state of dress. He openly gawks at her attire, or lack there of, his gaze trailing over her white skin. His hands seem to be faster than his legs as she feels his fingertips press against her exposed stomach before he can even climb into her open arms. She feels his warm breath touch her shoulder before his wet lips slowly follow. Her hands return to the button of his jeans. His lips slide over her skin, trailing a path to her mouth, until he kisses her again.

She unzips his pants, both hands grabbing the jeans by the waist and shoving them down his hips. He releases a low groan against her mouth, her hands sticking to his skin. She feels his hands push over her skin, peeling away at her until she's completely naked. She already pushed his jeans halfway down his legs before he fully kicks them off. He sucks her bottom lip between his teeth when she goes in for the kill, her hand slipping into his boxers.

Her fingers wrap around the length of him. She strokes him a few times which makes him kiss her harder. She feels like she's about to explode, pulling her knees up to slide her legs around his waist. She's practically begging for him as his chest slides over hers. They are both sloppy and uncoordinated as his boxers move over his hips, freeing his erection from confinement. He sighs as he pulls his mouth from hers, the soft echo nearly making her toes curl.

He finds one of the condoms he'd bought and rips open the packaging, lacking a significant amount of grace. She takes it from him, using both hands to roll the latex up his length. The urgency is apparent. He seeks her hand with his, entwining their fingers. He pushes into her so slowly that it makes her body ache. She tightens her legs around his waist, making him go deeper into her, all the while his eyes stay locked on hers.

He slowly rolls his hips, the weight of his pelvis against hers making her feel like their bones are grinding together. She moans softly, her other hand coming up to his back and pulling him close to her. His shoulder taps her chin as he thrusts a little faster and a little deeper, and her mouth parts as she presses it against his collarbone. Her tongue slides over his skin at first, then she uses her teeth to tug on it as he thrusts more, and lastly she bites down and sucks to leave her mark against his skin.

He squeezes her hand tighter as he thrusts harder, and her bite loosens so she can breathe. He thrusts until his hands are tangled in her hair, her fingers grasp his flesh tightly, and she can feel herself orgasming so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. She moans loudly, his name only barely falling out of her mouth, and he kisses her so incredibly hard that she almost doesn't even know if he is experiencing waves of pleasure himself.

Her skin is slick with sweat and she feels so completely disheveled that she probably looks a stranger to him. The sex was urgent and messy and she only hopes that if there is a next time it is so much better. After a few moments of their languid breath entwining, he gives her a little bit more room to breathe, rolling onto his side and leaning back against the wall. She prepares herself for his departure, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"Hey, where are you going?" He practically whines. She feels his arms circle around her and pull her back. It warms her more than she could have even imagined.

* * *

She wakes up to him peppering kisses on her neck just below her earlobe. It tickles and sends a shiver down her spine. She peels her eyes open and slowly turns her head to look at him. She's barely turned her head when his lips descend upon hers and he's kissing her. He is different than she had expected, the kind of man who ends up sticking around and cuddling and waking her up with kisses.

He sighs suddenly, the breath tickling her lip as he pulls away. She sees a pout settle onto his lips and it nearly breaks her heart. She lifts her heavy hand and cups his cheek. She feels his leg slide across her thighs, his boxers sliding up his leg and he feels so warm. She wonders if he even slept at all.

"I really need to go," he mutters. She smooths her hand down to the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material. She nods slowly; remembering that he is supposed to go back to Long Island for lunch with his parents and little brother. "Mom will be pissed if I don't make it."

"Okay," she replies, trying to conceal a yawn. He laughs gently, pressing a kiss to her jaw just below her cheek. Her eyes briefly drift closed at the feel of his lips on her skin. She feels the bed shift beneath his weight, her gaze following him as he searches for his clothing. "Are you coming back?"

"I want to," he says, tone slightly apologetic. She immediately nods in understanding. He has a big day tomorrow between the class he T.A.s and work and his own classes. She's sure though that if he's commuting then he will be exhausted. "You can come if you want."

She nearly freezes in her own skin. She's almost positive that she didn't hear him correctly. Clearly her tired brain is just playing tricks on her. She looks at him, really wanting not to say no but knowing she has to.

"I actually have to work this afternoon," she says, "But I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

"I'll come by," he replies, putting his shoes on.

He finally stands upright, quickly turning to face her. She sits up, the sheet falling down her front and exposing her to him a bit. He seems to get distracted by this for a moment, gaze lingering on the milky white skin of her shoulders. He smiles softly as he leans down, kissing her quickly before he makes a dash for the door only grabbing his coat along the way.


	5. stick around and it may show

About an hour before she's scheduled to get off of work at the bar, she spots him in that same booth. He isn't doing a really great job of looking at the book in front of him, she's noticed. He's been throwing glares at the bar guests who pay a little bit more attention to her, touch her a little bit too much. She hasn't even been able to say hello to him yet.

She sighs as she feels a hand slide over her shoulder and trail down her spine. She smiles forcefully, leaning away from the stranger's touch, and glances at Harvey over her shoulder. His jaw looks incredibly tight and he's creeping slowly to the edge of the booth seat. This can't be good.

She smiles as the man tells her what he wants to drink and she nods before excusing herself to the bar. She tells Tom what the man wants while pulling something from tap. She takes the filled glass of cream colored liquid towards the booth.

She sets it down in front of him which causes him to flinch just a little. She doesn't even think that he notices the flinch. She smirks as his eyes slowly flit from the beer on the table to her.

"I can't have my boyfriend in here ready for a fight," she warns him.

"So I'm your boyfriend?" He asks. She can see his lips twitch at the corners like he's fighting a smile. She didn't mean to call him that, but didn't really mean it in any certain terms. He finally grins. "Does this mean I get free beer?"

She rolls her eyes then and lightly shakes her head. She says, "Just don't let them get to you, okay?"

His mouth forms a thin, straight line as he swallows. He completely closes the book in front of him and scoots closer to the edge of the booth seat. She watches on with furrowed eyebrows, confused about what he's doing.

He says, "You called me your boyfriend and now you want to gloss over it."

"No," she insists. She feels her legs becoming weak at the knees so she reaches out and presses her palm against his shoulder for support. She feels a little lightheaded. What has she done? "I just...I have to go."

She pushes off of him and takes off in the opposite direction, not even granting him a toss over her shoulder. She can hear him behind her a few steps, the sound of his shoes echoing slightly throughout the slow pace of the bar.

"Donna," he says from behind her. She puts a little bit more distance between them and goes into the back room. When she turns around, he's standing there, face still slightly bruised. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says, "I didn't mean to call you that. It just...fit the situation."

* * *

His fingertips absently tap at her thigh and it tickles oh so much. She's trying not to laugh because her roommate was asleep when they got back after grabbing a bite to eat once she got off of work, but he's nearly making her lose it. And it's really late by now. He really needs to go to sleep because he has a big day.

"Stop," she finally whispers, "That tickles."

"Sorry," he mutters, "I'm not trying to."

She turns to face him then, his hand moving to the back of her thigh. Her ankle slips between his calves and he pushes his leg more across the bed. She slips her cold hands beneath his thin t-shirt and presses her palms against his stomach. He hisses.

"You're so warm," she replies.

"You're cold," he counters. He slips his hand further up her thigh, letting his fingers dig into her leg just below her ass. He short shorts are riding up, hugging her curves extremely tightly, and she curls more into him. "Why are you so cold?"

He scoots a little closer, pushing her a tad bit closer towards the wall. She wonders if he had been close to the edge of the bed and just wasn't saying anything. She shrugs half-heartedly, leaning forward and lightly pressing her lips against his. The kiss is chaste and warm, like they've been doing this every day for as long as they can remember.

"It's cold out," she finally mutters.

She can barely see him smile in the darkness, the light from the moon sneaking in through the blinds across the room. She really likes the other side of the room but her roommate got there first. He tilts his head upward, exposing more of his throat, and pulls her more into his chest.

"Don't want you freezing," he replies. She laughs quietly into his chest, his hand tickling the skin at the back of her thigh. She hates that she feels so happy around him when she still feels like she's getting to know him, like he's a mystery. "Is that any better?"

She nods slowly, but pulls away from him slightly. She angles herself more fully into him, kissing his throat right beside his Adam's Apple. She sighs against his skin. He laughs in response, the soft echo touching her ears like the noise is her new favorite song.

His fingers loosen against her thigh and move over her ass, ultimately coming to a stop at the base of her spine. She feels his nose rub over her cheek before his lips press against the corner of her mouth. He kisses her for a few minutes, the kisses nothing more than just a constant contact of softness and warmth.

Her hands slide over his skin, sticking in little crevices where his muscles and bones dip. Her right hand settles with pinching his shirt between her fingers and her left hand slips into the dimple in his back muscles. His thickening five o'clock shadow scratches her cheek, chin settling just above her head.

His arms are around her, embracing her like he doesn't want to let her go. She supposes this man who isn't really much of a cuddler may like her enough that he is abandoning his own habits. She waits until his embrace loosens and his breathing evens out before she kisses his collarbone, where she'd left her mark on his skin, and allows her eyes to close until the room becomes a figment of her imagination.

* * *

She misses him in the morning when she wakes up and he's gone. She misses his cute little smirk when he knows he's getting to her. She misses the warmth of his body next to hers, blocking the cool air from sneaking beneath the blanket. She feels silly, really silly, but he's been beside her when she woke up every day since Friday morning and she was beginning to think she could get used to it.

She does a quick scan of the room and notices that her roommate is gone. What if Harvey ran away with her roommate? She's too tired to actually think clearly. She looks at the clock again and realizes it's nearly 10.

Just then, the door pops open so slowly, politely, that she knows for a fact that it isn't her roommate. She sees him before he sees her, a smile no doubt already crossing her face. She sighs and shakes her head, fighting the urge to bury her face under the blanket.

"Hey," she greets, "You're back."

"I don't go in 'til noon," he replies. He drops his bag to the floor by her desk and kicks off his shoes. He looks so tired and she pushes the blanket up as she scoots more towards the wall to make room for him. "Wish I could stay in bed."

"Me, too," she replies, "I'm cold again."

"Selfish," he teases, slipping into bed beside her. He looks cute in his gray jeans and black shirt. She kind of wonders how he was orbiting around her all this time without her even noticing. He slings his arm over her waist and nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. "Don't let me fall back to sleep."

"You have to make a good first impression," she says.

She's still reeling over calling him her boyfriend and him being fine with it. She probably would have run for the hills if the roles were reversed. But then again, she likes him way more than she should. He isn't the first guy she's had sex with, that's for sure, but she usually plays a little bit harder to get and makes them wait. She hasn't even known him a week and they're already moving so fast.

"I do have to go look at an apartment down the street," he tells her, "Dad's coming out tonight. You should meet him."

"Harvey," she says quietly.

"No, you'd like him," he insists. She feels his eyes on her and she angles her body into his in response. He presses his fingers into the small of her back then, slipping his other arm beneath her head. "He's nice."

"Is this because I called you my boyfriend?" She says, "Because I didn't mean to."

"This is because I liked when you called me your boyfriend," he replies, "And because I want you to meet my dad. If you don't want to then I understand. This is all moving a little...fast."

"It's just that," she starts, hands pressing against his stomach as she rolls over and straddles him, "I guess meeting the parents makes it serious and I still don't really know all that much about you."

"I just, I like the way you make me feel," he admits, "And I am serious about you. Do you think I would take a punch to the face for just anyone?"

"I think that night you wanted a fight and you were looking for any reason to hit someone," she says. But her hands are still against his stomach, palms flattening there as she pushes them up to the base of his ribcage. He squirms a little beneath her, like her touch is tickling him. It makes her hips grind into his. His own hands find her forearms. "But I think you are adorable and kind and very smart. I just don't want to sabotage whatever we might have."

"We've already had sex," he points out. His fingers slide down to her wrist and she almost forgets her point. She's almost certain he's conducting some kind of lie detector test. He adds, "I still like you. Even though you did come on a little strong."

She slaps his chest then, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She had been the one trying to take things to the next level. She just feels a connection with him that she doesn't even think she's ever felt before.

"I admit, my mother would be disappointed to know I had sex with you so soon," she says, "But you seem pretty trustworthy."

"Oh, I can be an asshole," he reminds her. Although that may be true, she has yet to see it. Granted, everything is always great in the beginning, but she thinks they're personalities balance each other. "Just because you haven't seen that side of me yet doesn't mean it isn't there."

She gives him a pointed look and he almost relents under her gaze. He sighs, audibly, his hands circling her wrists as she presses her weight on her hands. She leans forward a bit, her stomach resting on his.

"Okay," he says finally, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," she replies.

"But specifically?" He baits.

"Why should I meet your dad?"

"Because he has that Specter charm?" He answers with a grin. She gets lost in his smile for a minute, her fingers coming up to trail over his jaw. "He's a musician, a good one too. And he's really funny."

"Yeah, but, why do you want me to meet your dad?" She baits in return.

"I just have a gut feeling about you," he says, "And I trust my instincts."

"Fine," she says with a dramatic huff.

He looks amused when she looks down her nose at him. She knows meeting his dad is a little much, kind of like she's dumb and in love for the first time. Which, she isn't. In love. And if she were, it wouldn't be the first time by any means. She is, however, very passionate about him and definitely loves that he seems to be equally as passionate about her.

* * *

They don't even check for her I.D. at the door as the bouncer gives Harvey a nod like they're old buddies. The guy eyes her suspiciously for a moment before he decides that she's ok. She knows she doesn't look 21, but she is dressed to look a bit older than she is. She could maybe pass for 21 on the arm of an older man.

And Harvey, although still looking very well kept in comparison to some they've passed on the street, doesn't look as well-dressed as normal. He has on a pair of dark blue jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of combat boots. He's ran his hand through his hair so many times that his hair is no longer fixed. He seems nervous.

He leads her over to a table close to the stage, hand between her shoulder blades like he's afraid to lose track of her. He helps her sit in one of the chairs at the small two person table before he takes a seat beside her. She looks over at him, a big confused because he hasn't given her much indication of what they're doing.

After he went to look at the apartment, he went straight to work at his new job. He was at her dorm door by 8, dressed in different clothes than the suit or what he had been wearing that morning. She knew their time together this week was going to be significantly different than the last few days. She's starting her weekly drama class that will be 6 hours once a week, and could potentially spill over. She doesn't even think she's told him about that yet.

He's grinning widely when the music starts playing loudly and she instantly knows what's happening. His father is one of the men on stage, she can tell that much. She takes a long hard look at the musicians, gaze tracing their facial features, trying to figure out exactly which man Harvey belongs to. The song is halfway through before she spots that Specter smirk she's seen a handful of times on the saxophone player's mouth. Harvey wasn't lying when he said his father is a good musician. She also had been an amazing musician once.

As the band quickly slides into a different melody, a waitress brings over an auburn colored drink in a clear glass and sets it down in front of Harvey. He nods his thanks at the woman but doesn't really acknowledge her any further. It seems like everywhere he goes he's friendly with a waitress. She's beginning to become suspicious of him, not that he's really done anything particularly suspicious other than frequent a few specific places. Especially this place where his father probably plays a lot.

After about a 20 minute set, the band stops playing and his father jumps off of the stage and heads to their table. He quickly notices her sitting beside Harvey. Although they aren't touching, she knows that the man recognizes this as something significant. She really needs to delve into his relationship history more, fully vet him.

"Harvey," the man says in passing to his son, "Who is this?"

"This is Donna," Harvey says with a grin. She quickly stands to extend her hand for him to take. She's nervous. She feels very light headed. Even after dating Stephen for 8 months she never met his parents. She only met her high school boyfriend's parents because she had known them most of her life. "Donna, this is my dad."

"Harvey's dad," she says softly. The man beams at being referred to as Harvey's father and it's adorable. It's obvious these men highly respect one another.

"Call me Gordon," he says, taking her hand and giving it a big shake. He grins and she almost immediately becomes enamored. She can really see where Harvey gets all that charm. Although he's a bit grumpier than his father. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Donna."

"The pleasure is all mine, truly," she replies. Her gaze slides over to Harvey who has a very mixed look. He appears to be both amused and annoyed at the same time.

"I have to admit," Gordon starts, dropping her hand and pressing his palms into his back, "You're a bit of a surprise. How did you two meet?"

Harvey quickly gestures to his seat for his father to take and moves behind her. He drags a chair from the other table as Gordon sits beside her and Harvey pulls the chair up on her other side. He's sitting much closer than before, his knee pressing against her leg, his left arm against hers.

"He came to my rescue, actually," she tells him, "He punched one of my customers for being too handsy."

"He really knows how to pack a punch," Gordon replies, "Did he tell you that he boxes?"

"No," she hums, "He didn't."

"He's a superb athlete," Gordon supplies, "He's actually splendid at everything he tries."

"Is that so?"

"I'm even an excellent dancer," he chimes in.

She tosses him a glance, a tight smile on her mouth. She thinks highly enough of him already, and now they are both just adding reasons she should like him to all of the reasons she already does. She feels his hand on her thigh and twitches beneath his touch.

"How long have you two known each other?" Gordon asks.

She visibly cringes at the thought of answering this question. She looks over at Harvey who just smirks and gives her a small nod. She would guess that he doesn't really have many secrets from his father, if any at all.

"Our official introduction was on Wednesday," she admits, "But he had been frequenting my workplace for much longer."

"My son sometimes has too much pride," Gordon replies, "He should have just asked you out weeks ago."

She quirks an eyebrow there and shifts her gaze back to the man to her right. His hair has a tinge of blonde in it, his five o'clock becoming more prominent, and he looks slightly sheepish. He turns his own gaze away from her, fingers reaching for the nearly empty glass of what was concluded to be scotch after he let her taste it some time ago, but never lifts it from the table. Her empathetic nature kicks in, drawing her to cover his hand on her thigh with her own. She curls her fingers around the back of his hand, pads of her fingers slipping beneath his palm and pressing against his life lines.

"He was waiting for a heroic gesture," she teases. The corners of Harvey's mouth tug upward ever so slightly but Gordon's smile is radiant. She feels his fingers curl around hers, something infinitely connecting them. "Is there anything I need to know about him before it's too late? Anything so dark that it would make me run for the hills?"

"He's stubborn," Gordon says, leaning forward and slipping the glass out of Harvey's hand, "But he's loyal and honest. You just have to be the right amount of smart ass to keep him on his toes."

"Now that," she says pointedly, "I can manage."

* * *

She feels a little drunk even though she'd only had a few sips from his drink. He declined his father's offer to take him back to Long Island for the night, insisting that he should walk her home. His father seemed to approve of the chivalry even though it was really Harvey trying to tell him that he was sleeping over.

There's a subway entrance right outside of the bar so the cold wind doesn't have much opportunity to whip her warm cheeks. He uses his metro card to get them to the platform. She can feel his hand reach out to her as they reach the bottom of the stairs, and her hand feels so small with his wrapped around it.

He pulls her to him. He lifts her hand and directs it to the back of his head. Her fingers slip into the blonde hairs at the nape of his neck. She feels him push his strong hands along her back and pull her into him. His lips immediately descend upon hers, crushing her mouth beneath his. She somehow isn't even expecting it and the breath leaves her.

His tongue barely flits against her bottom lip before he's pulling back. She sighs in disappointment, the fingers of her other hand sliding down to his chest and clinching his shirt in her hand. She can count on one hand how many guys she's dated who has made her feel like this. He smirks, his hand threading into her hair.

She feels him lightly tug at her red locks, his mouth pressing against her jaw. He plants kisses along her skin until he kisses her throat just below her chin. She sighs and tightens her grasp on his shirt. He laughs then, the vibrations tickling her throat. She wants to fuck him again.

Thankfully the train screeches to a halt and forces them to board it.

* * *

There's a knock on the door and her roommate, Bonnie, glares at her from across the room. They lock eyes for a nanosecond like Bonnie is accusing her of having company so late in the evening. And, truthfully, it is probably for her since Bonnie's boyfriend stopped coming around a few weeks ago.

She huffs as she closes her book and gets up off of her bed. She sets her closed book on her desk as she reaches for the door. When she pulls it open, she's way too happy to see his exhausted face. She nearly jumps into his arms but manages to contain herself. Instead, she pulls the door open wider and lets him in.

His hand touches her hip as he steps towards her. He plants a chaste kiss on her jaw extremely close to her cheek as he enters. She shuts the door behind him and turns to return to her bed. He's peeling off his jacket and hanging it on the desk chair. He kicks off his shoes. She pressed both hands against his back and slides them over the expanse of it, guiding him towards the bed.

"How was that drama class?" He mutters tiredly.

"It was good. We had to perform some lines out of that book I was reading Saturday," she replies.

He nods in understand even though he hadn't been particularly outspoken on whether he knows what she was reading. He is observant though, more observant than he lets on, but he never mentioned it. She pulls back the blanket and lets him climb in before her. Bonnie has returned her headphones to her ears and is scowling, but Donna doesn't care. She climbs into her bed beside him, pushing her hand over his torso.

He turns his body towards her, sliding his hand around her waist and pulling her into his chest. Both of her hands collect at his torso and she taps her fingertips near his ribs. He smiles softly. She pushes her leg against his, slipping her knee between his until her thigh hooks around his. She misses the feel of his skin against hers, suddenly the fact that he's wearing pants annoying her. She sighs out her annoyance.

"What?" He mumbles. She huffs again, lightly shaking her head. He really doesn't believe her, she realizes, when his hand shakes her a bit. "Tell me."

"It's nothing," she says. Her annoyance is ridiculous and she understands why he didn't just take his pants off to climb into bed with Bonnie being there. But that doesn't change the fact that she's a bit used to being able to feel his skin against hers, his warmth. She slips her hand beneath his shirt, pressing her palm against his stomach. "I'm just tired."

"Me too," he replies, "Had to go home today. I'm ready to find out about that apartment."

"You put in an application?"

"Yeah, dad called them today," he says; she feels his hand slip over her ass and pull her hips more into his, "He said he tried to talk them into moving in as soon as Saturday."

"That'd be good," she says.

She feels her mouth form a slight pout. Him having a place to go gives her the idea that she'd be seeing him a lot less. She can't help the thought entering her head, even though she's already accidentally called him her boyfriend and he was extremely receptive to it.

"Why do you seem upset?" He asks.

"I'm not," she insists, but it falls flat. He laughs and shakes his head gently. She thinks he already knows what's bothering her. She sometimes feels like he can read her mind. She shakes her head in return. "I'm really not."

"Stop worrying," he says, "Trust me."


	6. take your invitation

His beloved Yankees are playing again so he's sitting in that booth where he gets the perfect view of the television without being trapped in the crowd. The crowd this Wednesday night is a hell of a lot larger than the crowd from last Wednesday night. And she really, really needs him to keep his hands to himself if he so happens to oversee some guy being too handsy.

She does like that he has a protective nature to him, but she really needs this job. And she can't be flirting with him and not the other consumers all night. Especially with Micah around. She really, really isn't interested in Micah, she never really was, but he is her boss and he could really make things difficult for her.

But she is so tired already and it isn't even eleven yet. However tired she feels though, Harvey looks even more tired. She finally breaks away from the bustle and grabs a water from the bar. She takes the glass over to him at his booth, sliding in beside him. The sound of the glass hitting the table top seems to alarm him and she wonders how she managed to sneak passed this observant man.

"Brought you a water," she announces.

"Are you sure sitting here won't make your boss jealous?" He teases.

He's joking, yes, but he isn't entirely wrong. Micah has been staring every time that she comes over to talk to him, even if it's only to bring him another drink. He hasn't kissed her, hasn't even touched her. She angles more towards him, her hand reaching out for his.

"I'm taking a break," she replies with a shrug, "Besides, does me talking to him make you jealous?"

"Maybe a little," he replies flippantly. He turns his body more towards her, his knee touching hers. She can tell that he wasn't being truthful when their eyes lock and she shakes her head. He grins there. He says, "I trust you. Him, not so much."

"You look tired," she finally says, "Why don't you go to my place and go to bed?"

"Bonnie?" He asks.

"She's gone," she says, "I saw her packing an overnight bag before I left. I think she worked things out with her boyfriend."

"I can wait," he replies gently.

"You have to wake up early," she counters, "And maybe you'll get a few good hours of sleep with some room to spread out."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she says, lifting a hand to his cheek. She brushes her fingers over his jaw as she leans towards him. She kisses him at the corner of his mouth, his lips parting slightly to receive her kiss. She grins against his mouth, that foolish feeling washing over her again.

She's never been much for PDA, surprisingly.

* * *

Micah tried to keep her late, but he was at least bitter enough over seeing her with Harvey that he didn't put her into an awkward position again. She was honestly surprised that Harvey wasn't waiting outside for her at 2:30 when she left so she didn't have to walk home. His protective nature has potential to be overbearing, but it's a lot less nerve racking to walk home in the middle of the night with someone else.

When she makes it to her dorm, the room is pitch black. She can't even tell if Bonnie is actually there or not, but she kind of thinks that if Bonnie were then Harvey would have ended up back at the bar. She closes and latches the door behind her. She doesn't even bother trying to blindly dig for some clothes to change into, just kicks off her shoes and shimmies out of her pants.

She moves up towards the head of the bed. Her foot comes into contact with a cold cotton on the floor. She bends over to pick it up and brings the clothing to her face. It smells like him. She pulls off her top and drops it to the floor, quickly removing her bra and pulling his t-shirt on over her head.

She blindly feels for the blanket and lifts it. She slides beneath the sheets behind him, surprised to find that he left her plenty of room to climb into the small bed behind him. She wraps her arm around his middle and presses her front against his back. Her hand flattens against his bare chest, her fingers feeling his heartbeat quicken.

"It's just me," she says when she feels him stir a little.

"Hey," he immediately mutters, voice thick with sleep. He turns over beneath her arm, her fingers now against his ribcage. He pauses in his movements for a moment and quickly turns towards her. She lifts her head and lets him slip his arm beneath her. He kisses her softly, chaste. "How was work?"

"It was okay," she answers.

She feels his other hand slide down her back, pulling her hips into his. She sighs from the unexpected contact, her nails suddenly digging into the small of his back. She feels his leg hook around her, the back of his knee pulling her more between his legs. She feels his weight shift onto her, his body pinning hers beneath him to the mattress.

She feels the breath leave his mouth and skim over hers, the heat from his body kissing her skin. She opens her mouth expectantly, like she's waiting for him to close the space between them. She feels like he's teasing her, his knees on either side of her, his forehead close to hers, his lips hovering over hers. He dips his hips low towards her, his groin pressing against her pelvis. She sighs and she finally feels his lips on hers.

He kisses her hard, lips bruising hers, tongue sweeping over her bottom lip and teeth quickly following. He slips both hands beneath the t-shirt, pushing the hem of it slowly up her stomach and tickling her. She squirms slightly, her hipbones digging into his. She pushes down his torso, fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. She tugs on them, the yanking movement getting caught when her hand hits his thigh.

She feels his palms brush over her nipples, one of his hands lingering there while the other hand continues moving the shirt up to her collarbones. Begrudgingly, his lips leave hers and move across her jaw, planting chaste kisses. His mouth then moves to her collarbone beneath the hem of the shirt. His tongue swirls there, teeth nipping at her skin as he sucks gently.

She feels his muscles flex beneath her fingertips as he pushes his elbows against the mattress to lift his hips off of her. She is finally able to get his boxers down his legs and they collectively kick them off to the foot of the bed. He continues trailing kisses over her skin, tongue sweeping on the occasion, teeth biting, until he reaches the waistband of her panties.

He tugs on them, moving so he can pull them off of her legs, and he sits upright to do this. She takes the shirt off and discards it somewhere on the bed. He continues his assault and she feels the warmth of his breath, the feel of his fingertips dragging over her skin. Her flesh burns everywhere he touches her. She can feel all of him against her, all of her exhaustion suddenly an after thought.

"Wait," he whispers.

"No," she barks, fingers threading in his hair and tugging him upward. He immediately laughs against her skin, the sound like music to her ears. The stubble on his jaw scratches her skin just above her breast and she tugs his hair even harder. "Stop doing that."

"I'm just being responsible," he reassures with a smirk. She sighs as he removes a hand from her body, digging in the place that he'd left the condoms before. She pushes her fingers through his hair, fingers only stopping once they reach the space of his back between his shoulder blades. "I want you."

She releases a ragged breath, moving enough to kiss him again. In one fluid motion, he's inside of her, settling there for a few moments as she moans into his mouth. She feels his fingers etch down her body, slipping between them and pressing against her clit. She sighs as he simultaneously begins making his finger into a circular motion while thrusting slowly. This goes on for what feels like a minute before he kisses her softly. He does this until she comes, the orgasm lingering in her fingertips for much longer than she could have anticipated. She forgets to breath.

His breathing becomes ragged as he thrusts harder and faster. She feels his name leave her lips. His breath sticks to her skin. His relentless girations make her feel a tremble within her again. He groans slowly as he rests his forehead against the pillow beside her head, the noise elongated in the space between them as his own orgasm comes to fruition. He stills after a few moments, their breath mingling as they both breath heavily. He kisses her lazily.

Slowly he moves off of her. He finds her panties somewhere near his boxers and hands them to her before he pulls his own clothing on. He immediately slides his left arm over her torso and lays back down behind her. He pulls her into his chest and she doesn't even care about finding the shirt she'd had on before.

"I hope that was okay," he says softly in her ear. She wraps both arms around his and pushes her ass against his hips. She hears his breathing speed change almost like he's gearing up again. She smirks there.

"That was okay," she replies, "But I didn't know I was waking that up, too."

"Sorry," he says, tone sheepish. He buries his face into her neck. His palm absently rubs her ribcage just below her breast and she wonders if he's trying to tickle her again. "I'll try to keep my hands to myself."

"I didn't say that," she corrects, sliding her hand over his arm and entwining their fingers, "I just didn't mean to wake you at all. I know how tired you are."

"I'm never too tired for that," he says with a small laugh in the back of his throat.

She has to admit, being in his arms until she falls asleep is honestly better than sex.

* * *

She was going to go home and see her family this weekend, she really was. That was why she requested off. So her and Simon could go to Cortland, spend some time with their families, and come back to the city with their fix for a lifetime. That was her initial plan.

And then she got this boyfriend who was moving on Saturday, into his own place, where Bonnie wasn't. And that sounded pretty good, too. Even though she'd seen him every day, even though not always for long, there were almost always those beady little Bonnie eyes on them with the exception of that one night she took an overnight bag somewhere. Which means Bonnie is probably fighting with her boyfriend again. She doesn't really get what two people could fight about so much.

Regardless, she now has to break it to Simon that she would much rather stay in her new boyfriend's new (old?) bed than go home to see her mom and siblings. She knows it's possibly moving oh so fast but she's in college, she's supposed to throw away those brakes and jump all in. Unless she finds out Harvey is a drug dealer, which is doubtful considering she's seen him so much in the last week and he hasn't been high or having withdrawals, or perhaps a thief then she won't regret spending her time with him. All he's asked of her is to trust him. She's the one who insisted on him staying in her warm bed that isn't really much better than Chuck's couch other than her being in it.

Just, thankfully, she hadn't told her mom yet about the plan to go to Cortland because that would be horrifying news to break. However, she really does owe her mother a phone call at least. But, much to her surprise, breaking the news to Simon goes incredibly well. He says, "oh thank god," with so much relief that she knew he was only going for her.

* * *

On Thursday afternoon, she gets a notice from her RA reminding her that strays aren't allowed to be taken in. But because she is friends with her RA, the notice comes off as playful and only mildly suggestive that Harvey maybe needs to stay somewhere else to lay low. Donna, always pushing the envelope, instead, goes to Jennifer, sometime between her last Thursday class and going to work, to get an exception.

Firmly knocking on Jennifer's door before pushing it open, she gets an eyeful of some things she would really rather not see, but that's what she gets for not waiting for the invitation. She smiles apologetically with a half-naked Jennifer and a half-naked Bill or Dave or Frank, but doesn't quite leave. Jennifer laughs, only slightly embarrassed, but less so because Donna strolls into the room and shuts the door behind her. Donna takes a seat in Jennifer's desk chair.

"I got your notice," she greets, "And now that I have some dirt on you, I think we're even."

"You wouldn't," Jennifer says flippantly. Donna grins. Jennifer equally grins. Jennifer says, "The cute guy that you've had in your dorm every night this week...have him stay somewhere else for one night."

"Saturday night?"

"Donna," Jennifer says pointedly.

"Jennifer," Donna volleys, "He moves on Saturday."

Jennifer gives her that look, the one that says she's brilliant but she should probably try to get along a little better with Bonnie. Especially since the semester is so close to being over.

"Bonnie," Jennifer starts, she pulls the sheet tighter to her chest and Bill or Dave or Frank hides behind her a little being patient but also very impatient, "She's a unique creature."

"She's fighting with what's his name again," Donna clarifies, "And Harvey has class here and he works here but lives in Long Island until Saturday. Come on, help him out. He's so tired and doesn't have anywhere else."

She embellishes the truth. He could stay on someone's couch like he was doing before, but she'd much rather him sleep in her bed where she is. Mostly because she sleeps a hell of a lot better than she was sleeping just two weeks ago. And there's that added bonus of getting to kiss him whenever she wants. She's absolutely in far too deep to be thinking about this clearly.

"Saturday," Jennifer says decidedly, "But I have to properly meet him at some point."

Donna nods in agreement. Jennifer is a good friend to have now, but she will also be the boss somewhere someday so she will be a good friend to also have later. Donna recognizes greatness.

She makes herself a note to bake Jennifer some cookies the moment she can find a decent oven. Maybe when she's done being distracted by that cute boyfriend of hers after he moves into his apartment. But then again, that could take awhile.

* * *

"Look at you," he mutters softly, hand sliding over the ends of her hair, "You're absolutely stunning."

She feels her cheeks flush in response. He's been very tight with the compliments, being more of the kind of guy who cuts through bullshit and words because he prefers actions. He's very direct, and she's noticed that he doesn't say things that he doesn't mean without it being insanely obvious.

"Harvey," she protests.

"I mean it," he says. He doesn't particularly smile, just twists her hair between his fingers. She feels a shiver skate through her spine, her knee touching his gently. Upon the contact, he pushes his leg over her calf and uses his muscles to pull her more flush to him. "You're amazing. No wonder everyone loves you."

She shakes her head. She feels him inch towards her, only moving his torso until his stomach comes into contact with hers. She knows how tired he is, how he's really been fighting sleep. She also knows he has a hell of a lot to do this weekend, but all she wants to do is be with him.

"Why are you so nice?" She asks.

"Because I like you. I'm not nice to people I don't like," he replies with a shrug.

She sighs, tilting her head away from him. She leans her cheek closer to his face. He immediately brushes his lips over her cheekbone. His hand tucks beneath her hip, as he pulls her as close as she can possibly get. She really believes that he likes her as much as she likes him. She can't remember any time a guy has equally reciprocated her feels and made her feel like he was being honest with her.

"I want to take you out," he adds, "Somewhere nice."

"Like a date?" She asks shakily. She's nervous he's going to say no, but she doesn't know why.

"Yeah, like a date," he says breathily. She can feel his lips ghost over her jaw with every word he says. She shivers against him, a chill running through her veins.

"Like where?"

"Rao's," he says.

His answer nearly knocks the wind out of her. She turns her gaze towards him, his hand pulling back to her stomach. He entwines their fingers and lets them rest on her stomach. She does believe that he's different with her than with everyone else.

"Didn't know you were made of money," she finally replies, a smirk on her mouth. He narrows his gaze on her like he's considering her statement.

He shrugs. He says, "It's a special occasion. We're celebrating."

"What are we celebrating?"

"Everything," he answers smugly. She sighs, defeated by just how vague he is. She hates surprises, but she will be patient. Besides, she can't be that annoyed when he's just trying to take her on a date. "But mostly, I want to treat you."

She turns away from him, curling her body into his as she lays on her side. She arches her back as she stretches slightly, but quickly returns to her poor posture. She scoots against him, holding his hand and arm close to her chest. He immediately wraps around her, slipping his leg between hers.

"You're incredulous," she mutters. She lifts his hand to her chin and bends her head down to kiss the back of his hand. She smiles against his skin. "Why do I even like you?"

"It's that Specter charm," he admits. She's so comfortable in his arms that she falls asleep within a few minutes.


	7. living in a world of fools

The Specter charm is something that his father definitely has, but his little brother is clearly still growing into. Marcus is 14 and every time she tried to ask a question, it became increasingly more obvious that he is scared of her. Because she's a girl.

Harvey and his father, meanwhile, carried mostly everything up to the third floor walk up studio apartment without letting her really help all that much. And Marcus was mostly just helping to avoid her, she concluded. Gordon and Marcus had to return the u-haul to Long Island so they left sometime before noon to get the rental back on time.

He comes out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, a pair of gray jeans on his legs and a black sweater covering his torso. The second day of April is proving to be still chilly enough for light sweaters, jackets and long sleeves. She definitely feels a little cold in her black pants and long sleeve blouse, and there aren't any sheets on his bed. She shivers in the cold, laying back on the bare mattress.

He sits down beside her on the mattress, his hand coming to rest on her knee. She looks over at him, her hair tickling her neck with the movement. She watches a smile slowly spread across his mouth, his hand squeezing her leg just above her knee.

"Your little brother is adorable," she tells him.

"He's terrified of you," he says, "But in his defense, you are a little scary."

"Wow," she says, slapping him in the side. He laughs and leans back a bit. She feels his fingertips tap further up her thigh. "That wasn't very nice."

"Seriously," he mutters. He leans back on the mattress beside her, hand staying on her leg. He looks over at her. "You're beautiful, determined, strong-willed. It's kind of intimidating."

"You're not intimidated," she replies decidedly, like she doesn't even believe he would be in the first place.

"A little turned on," he admits, "But I like a bossy woman."

"Now I'm bossy?" She says, disbelief apparent in her tone.

"Babe," he says, and the one word practically makes her melt already, "You were arranging my apartment, telling us where to put the furniture. It was hot."

"You were turned on in front of your father?" She baits, "Awkward."

He shrugs and offers her a smirk. He slips his fingers more between her legs. She tightens her thighs in response, capturing his hand there. He says, "He's a man. He gets it."

She pulls her knees up, pressing her heels against the mattress, moving his hand more towards her stomach with her. She feels a mischievous smirk paint across her mouth like an idea has suddenly popped into her head. He must see it because his eyebrows furrow questioningly.

"Are you turned on right now?"

"I could be persuaded," he replies. She sees a sparkle in his eye as he grins, but his grin slowly fades. He looks disappointed suddenly and she doesn't like it. He grumbles, his annoyance increasingly apparent. "But I don't have any condoms."

"Oh, well," she hums. She really does like everything about him, from how considerate to how responsible he is. She knows that at some point she's going to see a side of him that she doesn't like, but surely he will be willing to talk about it. "That's okay, we don't have to."

"There are other things we can do than have sex," he says.

"Like unpack your apartment?" She asks. He laughs softly and it makes her smile. She pushes herself up and angles her body towards him, throwing a knee across his thighs until it hits the mattress on the other side of him. She straddles his waist, lowering her pelvis onto his hips. "What did you have in mind?"

"We could go grab a bite to eat from that Thai place that you love," he says. He pushes his hands up her thighs, his brown eyes staring up at her. His warm hands trail over her hips and eventually move back around to her round ass as he sits upright. She feels his chest against hers and it prompts her to slide her hands up to his shoulders. He gives a small shrug and says, "Or we could chat."

"I'm not all that hungry for food yet," she admits. They had donuts and coffee earlier before they moved his things. That really seemed to fill her up. She feels cold wind skim over her flesh. She thinks a window might be open.

She entwines her fingers at the back of his neck. She thinks she hasn't kissed him in hours. And she can feel a hardening bulge in his pants press against the back of her thigh. That definitely isn't helping matters.

"Are you trying to take advantage of me?" He asks her teasingly.

"Me?" She scoffs.

He smirks and pushes his hands more fully under her. He lifts her from his lap and stands quickly. She's suddenly lifted and in his arms, her grasp on him tight. She screeches his name as he spins her, hands sliding from her ass to her back as he lowers her back onto the mattress. He settles between her legs, his torso resting against her pelvic bone, her legs wrapping around his torso.

"I would let you," he clarifies, "Trust me, I want you so badly."

Like clockwork, she involuntarily jerks her hips upward. He tilts his head slightly warningly, like if she does something like that again he will abandon all self-control he has. Part of her wants to tell him to just take her anyway.

She runs her hands over his shoulders and trails them over the base of his spine. She pulls her knees towards her and his shirt rides up. Her fingers slip passed the hem of his shirt and she pulls it upward more to press her palms against his skin. He lifts up a little, pressing his hand against her stomach.

He stares at her for a long moment, like he's trying to remember her like this. Her hair is spread out behind her head. Her heels are digging into the small of his back. Her hands are tugging on his shirt. She's stupidly falling in love with him when she should be focusing on remembering her lines or any of the other classes she's taking.

She pulls on his shirt harder and moves it over his head. He sighs and lightly shakes his head out of the shirt now collecting at his elbows. He says, "You're driving me crazy."

"But in a good way," she muses.

"Is it though?" He counters. She can see a smirk on his mouth. She definitely is pushing him, but she can tell he isn't as annoyed as much as he's tested. "When we get back from Chuck's-"

"Chuck's?" She repeats, "What's at Chuck's?"

"He's kind of throwing me a party," Harvey starts, "For my birthday."

"Which is?"

"Tomorrow," he admits.

"Harvey," she whines. She smacks him in the chest and he recoils on contact. He sighs in response, moving his hand to her ankle to remove her leg from his waist. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it isn't a big deal," he replies. She watches as he detaches himself from her for probably the first time, and it kind of hurts her feelings a little bit more than she wishes. He crawls up the mattress and lays back on it. "There isn't anything special about turning twenty-two."

She doesn't know why she's annoyed by all of this. Maybe because he kept such a small detail from her or maybe it's because he's detaching himself. She doesn't even know how to respond. She wouldn't even know where to start if she tried. She feels his hand wrap around her torso and dig into her side. He pulls her towards him, and he curls her into him. He wraps his body around hers, slipping his leg between her slightly parted knees.

"All I really want to do for my birthday is be with you," he says. She can feel him nuzzle her neck, his breath warm. She relents and turns her body towards his, pushing her hand around his hip. "Please don't be mad."

"I just wish I had known so I could have gotten you something," she replies.

"I'm sorry," he says with a sigh, "I've never really been good at offering a lot of information about myself."

And he's right. So far he hasn't really offered too much about himself. He infers to things sometimes and she asks questions, but he never really offers a lot of insight. But then again, she doesn't really offer a lot of information about herself either.

"It's okay," she whispers softly, "I haven't been good about it either."

She feels him nod slowly, his nose sliding over the base of her throat. She feels his hot lips on her neck, the kiss soft and gentle like he's telling her it's ok. She reminds herself that they still have time to figure each other out, that she hasn't known him as long as it feels like she has.

* * *

He smells like aftershave and cologne. The mixture is both rough and gentle at the same time, like he has a certain sweetness to him that no one knows. And, god, women love him. They would walk up to him, offer him birthday wishes, and practically offer to give him a night he'd never forget. With her standing right there beside him.

But when she tried to excuse herself for a drink, he went with her. When she needed to go to the bathroom he waited outside for her. He wouldn't leave her side. He wanted to leave far before it was midnight, and with Chuck already three sheets to the wind they were able to dip out without him noticing.

Now they're back at his apartment with sheets and blanket and pillows finally on the bed. His sheets and pillowcases are a light blue and the blanket a black cotton. He only has two pillows, which seems like not enough on his full sized mattress. He has on a Miles Davis vinyl playing on the record player his dad brought over.

She sees him laying on the bed when she comes out of the bathroom. His shirt is slipping up his torso and exposing a bit of his skin. His arm is draped across his eyes to block the overhead light. She absently wonders if he feels as tired as it looks right now.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

"Yeah," he says, groaning as he sits upright. He immediately reaches out and circles her hand with his, pulling her between his legs. He guides her hand to his shoulder and rests it there. She quickly feels both of his hands on her hips. "I'm sorry about earlier."

She furrows her eyebrows, completely confused about his unexpected apology. He has nothing else to apologize for. He already told her that he was sorry for not telling her his birthday is only minutes away. She shakes her head slowly.

"Chuck likes to host certain kinds of parties and he didn't really expect me to bring someone," he admits, "I didn't think that those girls would be so rude and flirt with me in front of you."

"Oh," she says, releasing a small laugh, "Not like you've ever watched any guys flirt with me."

"Well," he hums, pushing his hands around her waist, "They don't usually proposition you while I'm standing right beside you."

"It's not like you were flirting back," she says.

"It was still rude," he argues softly, "And I didn't like it."

"Hey," she says, hooking a finger beneath his chin and making him look at her. His eyes lock with hers. She can feel his hand apply pressure to the small of her back before slowly trailing over her ass. "Let's just forget about it. It's your birthday, and I want you to be happy."

"Okay," he says.

He begins to stand in an attempt to close the space between them but she stops him. She pushes her hands around to the back of his neck and kisses him. Placing a knee on either side of him, she lowers herself onto his lap. His hands smooth up her spine.

His tongue sweeps over her bottom lip and she parts them, giving him access. She slides her tongue out against his, the rhythm matching his. They kiss for a few minutes, his hands moving down to her thighs. He presses his palms against her jean covered legs.

She skims her fingertips over his arms in search of his hands. She slips her fingers between his, entwines them tightly. He squeezes her fingers in response, his thumb brushing over her knuckle, and it makes her sigh against his mouth. She pulls back, resting her forehead against his as she sucks in deep breaths. Their warm breath mingles in the space between them.

He stares at her, a small smile tugging st the corners of his mouth, and he releases one of her hands. He moves that hand to her face and pushes the hair away from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. She watches as he swallows, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat. She lifts her hand and pushes it through his hair, disheveling the perfect placement of the blonde strands on his head, and lets her fingertips linger just behind his ear.

She feels his palm press against her shoulder and slide over her back, coming to a stop at the base of her spine. She feels him stand slightly, just enough to turn and pin her against the mattress. Their position is much like their one earlier, her legs slowly wrapping around his waist, his hips positioned between her thighs, his hand squeezing hers tightly.

She feels the weight shift on the bed as he leans to one side, using one hand to reach behind him and tug on his shirt. She quickly wraps her arm around his torso, pushing up on the hem of his shirt to help him remove the long sleeved cotton t-shirt. He is slender but muscular at the same time, and her hand gets stuck in the dip in his back. Her nails dig into his skin which makes him squirm, his hips pressing hard against hers.

She feels his erection through his pants, pressing against her jeans. She sighs as he slips his hand between them, pushing up on the hem of her blouse, and rolls her hips. She uses her pelvis to stroke him, the movement making him groan.

"Jesus, woman," he mutters.

She grins in response. She says, "You've been teasing me all day."

"Or have you been teasing me?" He challenges. She shrugs innocently. Her hands slide over his bare skin, fingertips tapping against his ribs. He drives his hips down before he pulls back just a bit. He says, "I think you've been teasing me."

"What?" She scoffs, "I did no such thing."

"You were the one who insisted on that massive box of condoms," he argues. She blushes immediately at the very accurate accusation. She feels her rebuttal catch in her throat and she just wants to tuck her face into his neck. He adds with a grin, "You're so cute."

Mile Davis takes control of the room for a minute as they stare at each other, letting the blush fade from her cheeks. She feels warm beneath him. She pulls her hand from his and pushes them both down his back, her hands settling on his ass. He smirks. He's wearing too many clothes. She's wearing too many clothes.

He peels her out of her clothes like he's unwrapping a present, and she lets him because she didn't even get him anything. He takes his time exploring her body, kissing her everywhere - her jaw, her throat, between her breasts, her hips, her thighs. His tongue sweeps over her skin, his hands pressing hard into her flesh until she feels him settle between her legs again.

* * *

She wakes up laying on his chest, hand tucked beneath his hip, knee between his slightly parted thighs. They are laying in the middle of the mattress, blanket pulled up to her chin but his bare torso exposed to the room. She moves her head from beneath his chin, and rolls over. She takes his arm with her, tugging him onto his side as she scoots back into his form.

His hand presses against her stomach as he stretches, pushing his knee between her thighs. She peeks up at the window and notes that it's still dark outside. They couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour or two. The cotton of the sheet is warm as she realizes she's completely naked still. She feels his hips move forward, groin pushing against the back of her leg. She doesn't think she's ever slept naked, especially next to someone else. She sighs gently. Her tiredness suddenly evades her like her nap cured her of her exhaustion.

"Are you awake?" She asks, barely above a whisper.

"You're naked," he replies, like it's the most obvious answer, "Of course I'm awake."

She laughs into the back of her throat, hand sliding down his arm in search of his hand. She feels his hand wrap around hers, squeezing it tightly in his grasp. She leans her shoulder back against his chest.

"Must be your birthday," she says teasingly.

"Feels like it," he says. He flattens his palm against her stomach. She can't believe how much she wants him again. She squirms and it prompts him to hiss in her ear. "You okay?"

"Are you tired?"

He shakes his head lightly; he says, "No."

"Me neither," she admits. She had fallen asleep, but not for that long. She doesn't even think he slept at all. She turns towards him and quickly straddles his waist, the sheet between them. "I'm gonna make you that cake."

"Right now?" He asks. She watches as he takes a quick glance around the room before his gaze lands on her again. His hands circle her hips. He says, "It's almost four in the morning."

"So you don't want to watch me bake you a cake?" She asks. She juts out her bottom lip in a pout. He quickly relents.

"I thought you wanted to," he trails off for a moment, the most adorable furrow in his brow as he contemplates his words, "You know."

"We just had sex," she replies flippantly. She watches him frown. She sighs dramatically. She pushes her hands against his chest and leans heavily on him. "Of course I want to, but we need some food."

He reluctantly agrees and lets her get up. She finds her panties and tugs them on. She also picks up his t-shirt from the floor and pulls it on during her trek to the kitchen. She gets all of the ingredients out of the refrigerator and places it on the counter. She also gets out the mixing bowl and the baking pan they bought from the store.

She mixes all of the ingredients into the bowl to make a lemon cake and preheats the oven. After a few minutes she hears a beep and she puts the pan into the oven. She finds the timer they bought in the sack and breaks it up, setting it for the time on the box. Just as she sets it on the counter, she feels a weight behind her.

"Are you done yet?" He asks softly, arms slipping around her waist.

"Getting lonely?" She asks.

"Something like that," he mutters.

"Impatient," she teases. She turns the water on at the sink to begin washing the dishes. He sighs, fingers spreading out against her stomach as he pulls her back to him. "You're going to love me for this cake."

"Is that right?" He muses. He takes a half step back and pushes her to turn around. He steps forward then, pressing his hips against hers and resting his hands on the counter behind her. "I don't think I need the cake for that."

She nearly swoons, slipping her hands up his back and holding on to him for support. He grins, quickly moving a hand to tuck a loose strand of her hair from her face. He then steps back, reaching for her hands and pulling her with him. He leads her back to the bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed, his hands finding her hips again.

She sets her hands on his shoulders and leans against him. She shakes her head at how smug he looks, her own smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. She leans forward then, kissing him lightly. He pulls her more towards him, deepening the kiss.

She's still reeling from his confession. She wonders what it means, if he was trying to tell her that he's in love with her or...maybe that he is falling in love with her. Either way, they are at least on the same page a little. She knows that she's falling in love with him.

He slips his hands beneath the hem of the shirt, fingers hooking around the waistband of her panties. She steps out of the clothing and lowers herself down onto his lap, his hands immediately landing on her thighs. She wraps her arms around his neck, her tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. He sweeps his thumb along her opening and she moans against his mouth.

Her hands slip down his torso, fingers sticking in the crevices of his skin. She slips her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, tugging on them. He smirks and pushes his index finger into her opening. She moans loudly. He lifts his hips and she pulls on his boxers, freeing his erection.

She places a hand on his chest and pushes him onto his back so she can reach for a condom. She feels his hands glide over her stomach and slip beneath the shirt, palms pressing against her breasts. She pulls the condom from the box and returns to her spot on his lap. She opens the packaging and he quickly takes the latex circle from it. She immediately drops the packaging and circles his cheeks with her hands. She kisses him softly.

Both of his hands circle her hips. She drags one hand down the front of him and drops it in the small space between them. Her hand circles his hardened member, guiding it into her as she slowly lowers herself onto him. He releases a heavy breath against her lips, and she bites back a groan. His hands delve into her hair, lightly tugging on the ends. He pulls his lips from hers and she immediately feels them against her throat. She begins rolling her hips, the repeated motion making his teeth nip at her skin.

She runs her hand through the hair at the back of his head, her fingertips squeezing the locks as she pushes him harder against her throat. He swoops his tongue against her skin and begins to suck there. She knows that she should tell him no, that it'll leave a really obvious mark in a really obvious place. And when she opens her mouth to say something on the matter some weird noise falls out instead.

She uses her body to stroke him carelessly, and swirls his tongue against her neck as relentless as anything else has ever been. He lightly bites down on her collarbone. His fingers slide over her spine and he tightly braces her in his arms. She feels him quickly roll her onto her back, the movement nearly knocking the wind out of her, and he begins to thirst enthusiastically. He lifts his head and meets her gaze, his hands bracing against the mattress beneath her, the back of his hand pressing between her shoulder blades.

He gazes into her eyes for an extended period of time, her hands wrapping around his arms and feeling his flexing muscles. He is strong and attractive; she feels warm and safe wrapped up in him. She doesn't know if she should hate that he makes her feel like this so easily. She didn't need someone to make her feel safe but here he is, her knight in shining armor.

He dips his head suddenly, kissing her softly with mouth parted and tongue gliding over her bottom lip like he's requesting entrance to her mouth. He rolls his hips in tandem, sliding as deep into her as possible. He fills her completely, moving faster until he whispers into her neck how close he is. She's close, too, so she whispers a 'me too' against his jaw as she cups his cheek with one hand.

She feels a warmth in the lower pits of her stomach and a tingle rise within her. He mumbles an 'oh god' against her skin. She pants. She whines. She cries out. She says his name. She arches her back, her stomach sticking to his. And she comes hard, his lips delicately falling against her shoulder until he does as well.

He promptly rolls off of her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into him. They lay like that, the sheet haphazardly draped across them, until the timer goes off and she has to get up. She finds the shirt on the floor and pulls it on over her head. She can feel his eyes on her as she pulls the cake out of the oven, setting it on the counter so it can cool a bit before she puts the frosting on it.

While she lets it cool, she moves back across the room to him. He sits up, the sheet falling further down his torso, and opens his arms as she sits on his lap. He wraps his arms around her stomach, hugging her close.

She's never felt so good.


	8. from the moment that we met

He doesn't have any kitchen utensils other than what they bought at the store for her to bake the cake. She uses the same knife she used to spread the chocolate frosting across the lemon cake to cut it into smaller pieces, but they still don't have a fork. She takes a piece in her hand and offers it to him. He seems hesitant, but eventually leans forward to take it from her fingers. His tongue flits against her fingertips as he takes the bite.

As he hums his approval, she takes another small piece in her fingers and lifts it to her lips. She slips the piece into her mouth and lightly sucks on her fingers while maintains eye contact with him. He shakes his head quickly, eyebrow popping up on his forehead.

"You're insatiable," he says.

"Harvey," she volleys in return, "Do you think you're my first?"

His mouth hangs agape for a moment as he takes in what she's said. He scoffs playfully as he leans back against the counter. He says, "I didn't say that."

"Now you want to know how many other guys I've been with," she muses.

"Well," he starts, "Kind of."

She watches him fold his arms across his chest as he leans against the kitchen island. She rolls her eyes playfully and reaches for his hand. She pulls his hand towards her and takes a step back, leading him back towards the bed.

"A few," she admits.

"A few," he repeats. She watches him as he drops onto the mattress, rolling onto his side to look at her. He reaches for her hand and tugs her towards him. He says, "Like?"

"Like ten?" She replies, a reluctance present in her voice.

"Like ten or actually ten?" He teases. He's such a future lawyer. She arches an eyebrow challengingly. He knows the answer, he's just toying with her. He smirks. "So that makes me...?"

"Eleven," she answers. She finally gives in and crawls onto the bed. He immediately wraps an arm around her middle and pulls her into his chest. "Do you still like me?"

"Of course," he replies. She feels him nuzzle her neck, his nose sliding along her skin. He sucks in a deep breath, a slight sting on her flesh. He places a chaste kiss between her jaw and her ear. "Will you still like me when I tell you my number?"

"Depends," she says, rolling over in his arms to face him. She pushes her hand over his side and settles it just above his ass. "Did you like them more than me?"

"Nah," he immediately replies, "They weren't half as pretty as you."

"You're ridiculous," she says with a small laugh.

She presses her lips against the corner of his mouth. He leans more into her, pushing her over to her back with the movement. She feels him reach for the sheet and blanket to pull up over them. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as he buries his face into her neck, his head slowly resting on her chest. She slides her fingers through his hair. His breathing is even in no time and she knows he's fallen asleep.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to see this movie?" He asks for nearly the 10th time in the last ten minutes.

She appreciates that he's so concerned that she may not care for this movie, but she really doesn't discriminate against any film. Besides, as a future actress, she likes to do her homework in all genres. Especially sci-fi. She loves sci-fi. She's a geek in more than just the theatre. She loves cult films - guilty as charged.

"Yes," she insists.

"We can see that Four Weddings and a Funeral instead," he suggests. His hands are buried in his pocket and he looks quite boyish. Adorably so.

"We will see that baseball movie," she replies. She loops her arm through his then and leans more against him. He looks down at her, just barely, and offers her another shake of his head in protest. "First of all, it's your birthday. And, second, I did see the first one. On my first date, actually."

He laughs then and steps forward with the line. She steps forward with him, like they're connected by a string. He says, "What were you? Like sixteen?"

"Fourteen," she corrects. It seems to dawn on him then that she is younger than he originally thought. She smirks.

"Holy shit," he mutters, "When exactly is your birthday?"

"July," she says, "Twenty-fourth. My sister's birthday is the thirtieth. She was pissed that I came along and stole her thunder."

"I bet she was," he agrees, "I remember when my little brother was born. I was seven. I was over having a little sibling."

"He admires you," she reminds him. She's only seen them interact once, but she knows how important Harvey's opinion was to Marcus. "I loved driving my sister batshit crazy, but I always looked up to her."

"Yeah?" He hums, "How much older than you is she?"

"Almost four years to the day," she says. The line moves up again and there's only 3 groups between them and the ticket master. She squeezes his arm to her chest as a gust of wind pipes up, using him to block the cold. "But when I was three my little brother was born and we got to torment him."

"Oh no," he says, "You didn't! I heard war stories about older sisters, but I just thought they were myths."

"My youngest brother got it pretty easy," she replies, "He's only twelve so he only has to deal with David at home."

"So what are your siblings' names?"

"Debbie, David and Daniel. I don't get it. My parents are named James and Karen but they really stuck to those d names," she says. The line seems to move rather quickly and they're at the window. She turns to the man behind the window and smiles. She says, "Two for Major League."

She begins to dig through her purse for some money and he quickly puts a hand on her arm. She looks up at him sharply. He says, "What are you doing? Put your purse away."

"It's your birthday, I'm buying these tickets," she says.

She pulls out a crisp 20 dollar bill. She puts it on the counter and slides it under the window. She can see him grumble out of the corner of her eye, but she silently promises to make it up to him by holding his hand during the movie. She realizes this is technically only their second date and she's already trying to pay. She gets their tickets and her change, shoving her change into her purse.

Once they step away from the window, they head into the theater building. He pulls the door open for her and follows her through it, his hand finding her back. She knows he's slightly disappointed, but he just paid for an apartment, bought some new clothes, and started a new job. She wants to give back to him in little pieces, especially for his birthday.

"I realize this is only like our second date," she starts.

He interjects, "Our second date? Oh, I get it. It's only a date if you can show me off. And here I thought I was your boyfriend."

She exaggerates an eye roll. She reaches for his hand as they approach the crowd of people. She doesn't want to lose him. She feels his shoulder tap against hers as he catches up to her in stride.

"My boyfriend," she says, giving the word some flare, "Deserves to be treated on his birthday. Now, do you want some popcorn?"

* * *

She's spent the whole day not really accomplishing much. She's supposed to have some lines memorized for Tuesday night but she's been busy doing other things all day. Like sleeping, talking, going to the movie, having sex - 7 times and she initiated 4 of those. He might have been on to something when he called her insatiable. But now the day is catching up to her and she's incredibly tired.

"You tired?" He asks. She leans her back more against his side, clasping his arm closer to her chest. She nods against his upper arm. "Go to sleep."

"I need to go home," she replies. She immediately stifles a yawn. She feels him turn then, his front pressing against her back as he drapes his arm around her.

He says, "Stay. Sleep with me."

"I'm too tired to move," she mumbles. She hears him laugh lightly. He holds her tightly, burying his face into her hair. She doesn't want to move even if she had the energy to try. "I don't have my toothbrush, hairbrush or my makeup."

"You don't need any makeup, you're just as beautiful without it," he counters, "And I can run to the drug store on the corner to get you the other things."

"Harvey," she protests, his name sounding whinier than she has intended.

"That way you have those things here," he argues. He's smart enough to try and eliminate any excuse to go home she could come up with. She's becoming one of those girls who get a boyfriend and forgets all about anyone or anything else. "You can sleep here."

"Are you actually going to let me sleep?"

"I will let you sleep," he says decidedly. He slides further down the center of the bed behind her and curls around her. She turns her head slightly, lifting a hand and pointing to her cheek. He chuckles and presses his lips there at her command. "Good night, sleepyhead."

* * *

She fell asleep rather early. He held her until she rolled over and accidentally woke herself up. She heard the bed creak as he moved off of it, but it didn't really register until now. Now that she's peeled her eyes open and turned her head to get a good look at him. He has a stack of papers beside him.

She stretches and rolls onto her back. She says through a yawn, "What time is it?"

There's a beat of silence as he glances at the clock. He says, "Just after two."

"You need sleep, babe," she replies.

"I know," he says. He leans forward and pulls his legs towards him. He pulls his legs into a butterfly shape and presses the paper directly onto the bed and uses a red pen to mark on it. "Just a few more then I'm done."

"Oh no," she mutters, sitting up, "You had papers to grade. I shouldn't have distracted you."

"It's okay," he insists, angling his top half towards her, "It was worth it."

She smirks as she wraps her arms around his middle and leans her cheek on his arm. He leans towards her then, and she angles her chin upward to meet his lips with her own. The kiss is soft, but it lingers. His mouth is warm, lips are soft, chin is prickly. He drops his forehead to hers, letting it rest there for a moment as he pulls his lips from hers. He slides his hand over her thigh, hand settling there.

"I think I love you, Donna," he says.

"What?"

Her fingers press hard against him as she tries to convince herself that she's actually awake. Surely he didn't just say that. She must be dreaming.

"I'm falling in love with you," he says, rephrasing his admission. She opens her eyes and sucks in a deep breath, inhaling his scent. They smell the same. She'd used his stuff in the shower earlier and she likes the distinct smell of him surrounding her. "I know it's crazy because we haven't even known each other that long, but I've never felt this strongly about anyone else before."

She doesn't exactly know how many other girlfriends he's had, but she knows how many boyfriends she's had. He's only her 5th boyfriend, including Ted when she was 14 and went on their first date. She's never felt like this for any of them before. Not even Stephen whom she dated for some time.

Her hesitation must make him think that he said the wrong thing. He pulls back just the slightest bit. She squeezes him tightly and kisses his arm just below the sleeve of his shirt.

"I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't," she interrupts him, "I've never felt like this about anyone else either. I'm scared I'm turning into one of those girls who gets a boyfriend and ignores everyone else."

"Ew, I hate those girls," he teases, "But not you. I love you."

He grins and she shakes her head at how confident he seems to be suddenly. Like he's saying it because he can. She can tell he's being genuine though. He's always genuine.

"Is that because you're the boyfriend?" She asks.

"Definitely," he replies, "And I really like seeing you every day."

He pushes his legs back out, kicking the stack of papers out of the way and onto the floor. She lifts her hand from his stomach to press against his cheek. She directs his gaze back to her. A slight pout sits on his lips. She offers him a smile then.

"I love you, too, Harvey," she says. His mouth widens into the largest grin she's ever seen on his face. She arches her back as she kisses him at the corner of his mouth. It's chaste but he's so warm. "Can we sleep now?"

"Yeah," he mutters, borderline dazed.

A big yawn falls out of his mouth. He pushes the papers onto the floor and leans back. He unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off. He throws them onto the floor and lifts the blanket to climb beneath the sheets. He flicks off the bedside lamp and immediately turns towards her. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close.

* * *

"Thank you for running through those lines with me, Babe," she says. She's been moving around the room, acting her part out for the last hour, making sure she has her part down for class tomorrow evening. He's been casually sitting on the edge of the bed, reading from her copy of the book she has for class.

"You're welcome," he says. He closes the book and places it on the bed beside him. He quickly reaches for her. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he tugs her towards him. He throws her down on the bed and slips between her thighs. "I think you've found your calling."

"What's that?" She muses.

"You're magnificent," he replies.

"I'm all drama and flare," she counters.

"You're more than that," he says, "You're amazing. You're all heart."

"Thank you," she says. She feels a blush creep up her neck until it reaches her cheeks. She always accepts the compliments even if she doesn't agree. However, he's not wrong. She can act drama and flare it up a bit, but she herself tends to stay away from the drama. "You're not so bad yourself. Your dad was right. You're good at everything you do."

"I try," he replies. She slides her hands over his sides, pushing them around to his back. She wraps her leg around the back of his. "But you could really be something."

She runs her fingers through his hair. She says, "I don't actually know what part I'll be playing. Won't know until next week. We are auditioning tomorrow."

"So is this class like rehearsals?" He asks.

"Our final is our performance," she informs him, "I was really lucky to even get accepted into this class since it's an upper level drama class. I had this teacher before and he really thought I had potential."

"Do you want to run through it again?" He double checks.

"Only if we can do the make out scene," she replies slyly.

His face falls. His lips form a thin line. His eyebrows furrow so deeply that his annoyance is completely obvious. He's jealous. He says, "There's a make out scene?"

"Like you could handle if there was," she says with a laugh. He looks at her with both eyebrows raised. He's challenging her and the wheels in her head are turning to take the bait. "You don't want to share. I saw you tonight when that guy touched my ass. You about lost your shit."

"Well," he relents, "I don't exactly blame him. It's a nice ass."

She grins triumphantly. He sighs at her cheeky demeanor but one look and she knows he's being dramatic for the hell of it. He's a bigger drama queen between the two of them. He kisses her then at the corner of her mouth, soft, considering he really hasn't kissed her all night.

He did come into the bar close to the end of her shift. He sat down and waited until she got off of work. He spent the entire walk to her dorm trying to convince her to come back to his place. She finally agreed when she saw Bonnie was there. She packed a large bag and all of her books. It almost looks like she's moving in. She isn't even sure he would be opposed to that.

"Get up so we can run through it again," she says, tapping him on the back. Reluctantly, he moves off of her. He picks up the book he was reading from off of the mattress. He thumbs through the pages looking for the mark in the book he was reading from earlier. The particular section, according to her teacher, is a far more difficult section of the play.

Harvey runs lines with her for another hour, before he pulls her to bed and snuggles her beneath the blankets. The man who doesn't particularly like cuddling sure has changed his tune. She thinks he has to keep touching her sometimes to remind himself that she's there. He's amazing.

* * *

She wakes up and it's freezing. The other side of the bed is empty, cold, like he's been up for more than just a minute or two. She feels a pout spread across her face. She quickly hears a 'shit' from the other side of the room and she half sits up to have a look at the outburst. He has on a pair of jeans and a shirt on like he's ready to go for the day.

She sighs. She says, "What are you doing?"

"Shit," he says loudly, "I was making breakfast."

"You promised me sleeping in," she reminds him, "You've been up for awhile."

"Had to run downstairs to get stuff to make breakfast," he admits. She relents because she knows he's just trying to be sweet, but she really would have preferred to wake up in his arms. She's a lovesick fool. "Didn't think what I was wearing to sleep in was decent enough."

"It's cold in this bed without you," she replies. He lifts the pan off of the stove and turns toward the counter top. He dumps the food onto one plate and sets the now empty pan in the sink. He smirks.

He says, "I'm coming now."

He picks up a fork and the plate before heading towards her. She sits up, pulling the blanket closer to her torso. He hands her the plate and the fork before clambering into the bed beside her. She looks at the plate, sees that he's made bacon and eggs with a few strawberries, and hands it back to him once he's settled. She angles her body towards him, pushing her toes against his thigh. He lifts the plate and she spreads her legs across his lap. He sets the plate down on her leg.

"Why are you so sweet?" She mutters. He hands her the fork and she takes the first bite. He's so thoughtful and kind. He's very different than his first impression.

He takes the fork from her after she's taken food off of it. He says, "Because I made breakfast? I was hungry."

"Not just because of breakfast," she refutes with a shake of her head. She watches his gaze flit from the food to her and back. She can tell that he's wondering what she's getting at. "You're more than I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"When I invited you to stay in my dorm, I don't know, I just trusted you for no reason. How did you do that?"

"You were mad at me the next day," he says. He's right, too. She was very upset with him mostly because she felt embarrassed on two separate occasions. He smirks and takes another bite before passing her the fork. "I get why you were mad, but I was just trying to...break the habit."

"What habit is that?" She asks, stabbing some egg.

"Meaningless sex," he says with a small shrug, "I had on occasion slept with women just to sleep in a warm bed and I didn't want to do that to you. I'd liked you from the bar. I mean, I didn't know much, but what I did know I really liked."

"How often did you do that?" She asks. She stuffs a bite into her mouth and swallows. He picks up a slice of bacon and takes chunk of it into his mouth. He looks away then like he can't look her in the eye. She says, "You don't have to tell me."

"Yes I do," he insists. He releases a heavy-hearted breath and sets the fork down on the plate. He looks at her then, his palm flattening against her shin. "It was only once every few weeks, maybe seven or eight times. I know I shouldn't haven't done it, especially because I didn't really even want to, but I was always gone by the time they got up."

"Always?" She smirks. She understands now that she really is different for him. She hadn't doubted before but now she fully understands that not only did he not sleep with her, but he stayed. "So I'm guessing that means you never made them breakfast?"

"Only for you, babe," he replies. She watches as he visibly releases a silent breath and gives her a small smile, like he's extremely relieved that she doesn't think less of him. He leans forward and kisses her jawline, soft lips lingering there for just a few seconds. "God, I love you."

She can't help the triumphant way that she throws her shoulders back and sits straighter. She wonders if she'll always be so cheesy when he tells her that he loves her. They really have been moving so fast. It hasn't even been two weeks and she's already thinking in terms of always.

He takes the plate with crumbs on it from her lap and places it on the floor beside the bed. She feels his hand slide across her back. He leans against the pillow behind him. She drapes her arm across his stomach in response, curling into his side. He buries his face into her hair like he's ready to go back to sleep.


	9. give me strength when i am weak

_This only has two parts. It's a small update. I just wanted to explain something. I think, in my opinion, that this is moving very fast. However. I also think that in this version Harvey is softer than he is in the shower because he hasn't seen heartache and understood quite yet. I also think that he was in a very complicated situation that made him extremely vulnerable (because of the commuting) so he trusted her quickly and easily. Lastly, women who are 19 like Donna tend to do stupid things for boys who are not quite worth it. But, so far, Harvey seems to be and that's what is important._

* * *

Her shift tonight is weird. Harvey had stopped by after work dressed in his gray suit with a thin, black tie. He looked cute, but he couldn't stay long. He said he had a lot of grading to do and his own homework to work on. And now that it's nearly midnight and the bar is dwindling down, she's ready to go home.

Hannah, slightly new still but quickly getting the hang of it, has everything covered out front. She goes into the back to get her things. She grabs her light jacket and pulls it on. Once she has that all situated, she grabs her purse and pulls the strap over her shoulder. She shuts her locker and turns. When she turns, she's face to face with Micah, minimal space between them.

"Micah," she says slowly, "What's going on?"

"We haven't had a chance to talk since the other night," he says, like it's obvious.

"There isn't anything left to say," she replies. She offers him a shrug like she's trying to brush off that night. She's becoming increasingly more uncomfortable though, like she knows this can't be good.

"There is," he says. Micah is tall, like Harvey, but a lot lankier. He lacks the muscle and he looks like he can't put any weight on if he were to try. His hair is a little too long, slicked back. He steps closer to her. She looks up at him, discomfort in her eyes. "I want to talk about us."

"I have a boyfriend," she reminds him, "You know him."

"But you barely know him," Micah replies, "It can't be that serious."

"It is," she says. He steps closer and she feels like she can't breathe.

"You didn't even give me a chance," he says, a pout forming on his lips. She shakes her head in response, the words escaping her. "Come on. I know you like me."

He's touching her now. She can't think clearly, can't breathe. His hands are strong and forceful as they squeeze her hips tightly. She squeals because it hurts. He's too strong and she's backed against the lockers.

"Micah, please stop," she whimpers, a tear sliding down her cheek.

He leans in then, going for it, biting her bottom lip until the taste of metal floods her mouth. She gathers all of her strength and pushes him as hard as she can manage. It knocks enough wind out of him that he sucks in a deep breath and releases her bottom lip without causing too much more pain.

She hits his shoulder as she pushes past him and rushes out of the bar. She doesn't even look behind her. She lets silent tears fall of the way to Harvey's apartment. She feels dirty. She feels like she can't face him. She feels like he's going to be mad at her. But she definitely doesn't want to be alone right now.

Once outside of his building, she looks up at his window and sees that none of the lights are on. She goes inside and climbs the steps to his floor. When she twists the knob to his door, she pushes it slowly in hopes that she doesn't wake him up. She takes off her purse and jacket and sets it on the floor near his record player. She kicks off her shoes. When they make a loud thump, she looks over to be sure he doesn't stir.

Upon seeing his sleeping form she bursts into tears. She wants to wake him, to make him hold her tight and tell her that everything will be ok. But she doesn't want to disturb him. Apparently her crying is too loud because she sees his frame move.

"Donna?" He mumbles tiredly, "What's wrong?"

He immediately sits up and throws the blanket off of him. He rises from the bed and quickly crosses the room. She stills in her movements, not quite sure what to do.

"Hey," he says softly. She feels his hand gently touch her chin and tip her face upward. She's honestly afraid that he's going to kiss her. A year viciously slides down her cheek and drops from her face. "Why are you crying? What happened?"

She looks up at him. She can't see his eyes but she knows he's looking at her, waiting for her to answer. She doesn't want to tell him, but she can't lie to him. Either way, she can't look at him anymore. She lifts her hands and slides them around his waist, stepping into him. He instinctually wraps his arms around her. She feels a bit better in his warm embrace.

They stand there for a few minutes, not saying anything, until he steps back and leads her towards the bed. He sits and pulls her down onto his lap. He holds her close for a moment longer before he lifts his hand to sweep across her cheekbone, wiping away at her tears.

"Are you ok?" He tries again. She lightly shakes her head. He sighs, dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. He says, "Did something happen?"

"Micah," she starts. She chokes on her words. She's overreacting, she knows that she is. She releases a shaky breath, trying to keep herself contained. "I told him that I have a boyfriend, that I didn't want him to, but he kissed me anyway."

"Did he hurt you?" He asks.

"I'll be okay," she insists. She sighs, still fighting back the tears. "I just feel dirty."

"Okay," he says gently, "Go take a shower. Maybe it'll help you feel better."

She nods slowly and, with his help, stands upright. She moves down the hallway to the bathroom and closes the door most of the way behind her before flipping on the light so she doesn't blind his tired eyes. She turns on the hot water before undressing. She sees her reflection in the mirror, red marks on her hips. She starts crying again. She takes a long shower until the hot water is almost all of the way gone. She climbs out of the shower and wraps a towel around her.

She had forgotten to bring clothes in her haste to cleanse herself. She goes back into the main room to get her clothes and he's nowhere to be seen. She's panicking now, wondering where he may have gone. She quickly finds something to put on, a pair of underwear and one of Harvey's t-shirts. By the time she's returned the towel to the bathroom she hears the front door open and lock.

"Harvey?" She yells in a panic. She rushes back into the living room where she barely get a good look at him before she starts crying again. He has a split lip, cheek beginning to bruise, and his hand is cut.

"Don't cry," he says softly. He immediately lifts his cut hand to her cheek and wipes at the tears. He smiles tightly, his other hand quickly following suit. He repeats the movement with his other hands. He slips his hands around her shoulders pulls her into him. "It's all taken care of, okay? He won't hurt you again."

"You didn't-"

"He hit me first," he explains, "But he won't hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

"Honey," she says, eyes welling with tears again.

"I'm here," he replies. He glides his hands down her back and pulls her closer. She feels him run his hand through her wet hair. He presses his lips against her temple and lets it linger on her skin for a while. "Come 'ere."

He releases her and steps back, putting some space between them. He circles her hands with his and leads her to the bed. He quickly kicks off his shoes and drops his pants into a pile on the floor. He quickly flips off the light and they get into bed.

"You're safe with me," he reassures.

She wraps herself around him, already feeling protected as he pulls her back into his arms. She turns towards him, pressing against his side and hugging him. She buries her face into his neck, pressing her forehead against his jaw.

She says, "I love you."

* * *

They've only been dating for two weeks, 15 days, and he's already been punched in the face on two separate occasions over her. She hopes this doesn't become a running theme because he has a really handsome face that doesn't look all that great with blemishes. Well, he actually still looks handsome, but the swelling and bruising makes her feel so guilty.

One thing she knows for sure is that if she keeps working in that bar he will undoubtedly get into another fight over her. She doesn't necessarily want to quit because of him getting jealous or into fights over her, but that doesn't help either. She knows she needs to quit because this situation with Micah has only gotten worse and the last thing she needs is Harvey coming in to be her bodyguard every night. Which he would do and she already knows that's what he was inferring to.

And waking up in his arms did help a hell of a lot to put her mind at ease, but he can't be with her all of the time. She's really losing it over this guy. She used to be a strong, independent woman who didn't take any shit. Boyfriend or not, she once handled herself better than she is these days.

Regardless, the workplace harassment from her boss of all people is definitely a reason to quit. She could handle the harassment from patrons but the moment it came from her boss she began to crumble. She realizes now that women in the workplace won't always be respected like they should be.

But she inhales the scent of him, a cross between honey and spring, and she feels a comfort wash over her. She feels his arm tighten around her and his other arm quickly secures around her. She feels so small when he squeezes her so tightly. He presses a kiss against her cheek, close enough to her mouth to feel his warm breath on her lips.

She fists his shirt in her hand and angles her mouth towards his. She kisses him deeply, her eyes drifting closed again. Their mouths are connected for a few minutes, just breathing each other in, before she pulls away. She squeezes her leg between his, a thrill rushing through her as he wraps his leg furthest from her around the back of it.

He's nearly sweating, his skin is so warm that the heat is radiating off of him, but he wants to be in constant contact with her. She slips her hand between them and pushes the blanket down his torso before pulling his shirt up, hoping it'll cool him off a bit. He smiles softly, loosening his grasp so he can tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Feeling better today?" He asks.

"Yes," she mutters, "Thank you."

"Your lip doesn't sting?" She asks. It dawns on her now why he maybe didn't deepen the kiss.

"A little," he says with a shrug, "But it's okay."

She nods against his chest as she nuzzles her face into his neck again. She presses her fingers against his stomach and slowly begins to draw pictures along his skin. She circles his belly button, nails scratching lightly at his waistline and the way up his ribcage to just above his sternum.

"I've been thinking," she starts. She slips her fingers beneath his shirt and stills her hand on his chest. She hadn't been able to fall asleep so quickly last night. She was exhausted and trying not to cry anymore, but she doesn't want to keep dealing with her boss making advances on her. "I think I should quit."

"Not because I want you to," he clarifies, "Right? Because I never said that. I think you should get away from this guy, but you're making good money."

"I can get a job at a restaurant somewhere," she replies.

"You don't have to get another job," he says, "You can quit the bar and just focus on your school work for the rest of the semester."

She does have plenty of money saved up, but he doesn't know that. She presses her hand against his chest and sits upright. She feels him follow her movement, his chest pressing into her back.

"I have to save up so I can find an apartment. If I don't have enough, I have to go back to Cortland for the summer," she explains.

"You can live here," he says. She feels him shrug as he wraps his arm around her middle. He leans against her more fully. He leans forward and presses his lips against her cheek. "What's mine is yours."

"Harvey," she attempts to protest, but he stops her. He presses his other hand against her stomach, palm flattening there. His touch is so soft and warm. He plants his lips at her temple.

He says, "Seriously. I love having you here. I'm dreading the day you stay at your dorm."

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Yes, he says with a nod, "I am."

"But first thing after finals I am looking for a job," she says.

He nods slowly in acknowledgement. She can't believe she just agreed to move in with him for the remainder of the semester. And if she's honest, she's been dreading having to go back to her dorm as well. For a number of reasons, but most of all because she doesn't want to leave him.

When she turns to look at him, he's grinning triumphantly. She pushes herself up even more and turns, throwing a leg over his lap and sitting there. Her knees are on either side of him, pressing against his hips. She pulls the shirt off over her head and tosses it onto the bed beside her. She circles his jaw with her hands and leans in to kiss him.

When her mouth touches his, his lips are already parted expectantly, and his tongue flits against her bottom lip. She sighs heavily against his mouth, his hands pushing against her ribcage. His hands skate up her body, barely touching her. His right hand circles her left breast.

He pulls his mouth from hers, immediately planting kisses over her throat and neck and clavicle. His other hand pushes up between her breasts, moving back over her chest so slowly that she can only throw her head back. He kisses everywhere that he touches, her skin warm beneath his lips.

She pushes her hands over his shoulders, upper arms moving around his ears as she pulls him closer to her. His tongue sweeps over her skin, teeth biting at the plump roundness of her breast. He sucks on her skin, hand now sliding down to the waistband of her panties. His other hand moves around to their back, fingertips lightly pressing against the base of her spine. She pushes up onto her knees, his teeth reluctantly letting go of her skin.

He lifts her off of his legs and pushes her backwards with his chest. Her shoulders hit the mattress first and she's suddenly looking up at him. He looks determined as he tugs on her panties, stares at all of her in the rays of sunlight peeking in. His eyes linger on her hips, gaze narrowing angrily.

"Did he do this?" He asks, voice collected yet still forceful.

She can tell he's trying to reel himself in, but he's so mad. She can see him swallow, the lines in his throats tightening with his jaw. His hand moves to her right hip. His gaze quickly lifts to hers. Her vision blurs and she can't even make his frame out without blinking. He quickly lifts his other hand and wipes at the hot tears beginning to slide over her cheekbones.

She can't answer him but she doesn't have to. The tears say more than enough. He sighs and she watches as his shoulders loosen. He whispers, "It's okay, baby."

He leans down then, lips gently pressing against her hipbone where his hand had been. He kisses the spot softly, offering it warmth and her reassurance, before he moves to her other forming bruise on the other hip. He lifts his head again and offers her a small smile.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," he says, "What can I do?"

"Just be with me," she replies.

She can barely hear herself, but he's nodding like he understands her. He's pulling off his shirt now. It dishevels his hair a little when it sticks to his head, and he drops it to the floor.

"Are you sure?" He asks. She nods, not entirely trusting herself to speak. He discards his boxers, a certain sadness settling into his shoulders. She feels like she's broken his heart somehow. She hates it.

"I love you," she mutters.

"I love you, too," he replies, "So much."

He gently lays both hands on her, palms spreading out until they settle on her hips. He leans back down to kiss her skin, lips touching her waistline, her ribcage, her breast, her neck and finally her lips. The kisses are all soft and sweet, lingering against her skin as she seeks out his hands. He turns his hands over beneath hers and entwines them.

She feels him press against her center. He slowly fills her, and once he has he spreads the weight of himself across her. He kisses her softly. They kiss for a long time; hands' squeezing the other's tightly, movements so slow that the entanglement is more prominent at their mouths. For the first time she feels like she's making love.

And they do, with her legs wrapped around him, bodies slickened with moisture, until the heat rises in her stomach and she cries out his name.


End file.
